The Other Side Of Life
by Space-Time-Leapers
Summary: In this prequel, Ziggy has just come on line. A problem with cabling for the Imaging Chamber leads to issues that Al and Sam must address, but can they when they find themselves somewhat acting out of character. What the heck is going on? FEEDBACK PLS
1. Chapter 1

**THE OTHER SIDE OF LIFE**

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I thank the creators and owners of these characters for allowing me to write fan fiction for my own and others enjoyment.

**CHAPTER ONE**

_Wednesday, August 25, 1993_

_2:00 p.m._

Sam had searched everywhere he could think to look at the project including Receiving. The cabling for the Imaging Chamber simply hadn't arrived. He knew that he'd indicated in the project schedule that directly after the parallel-hybrid computer was brought online, the construction of the Imaging Chamber would need to begin immediately. He called up to Al's office.

"Al. You think you can come to the Control Room? I have something I need to talk to you about."

"Sure, Sam, be right there."

Al arrived a few minutes later. As always, the man was dressed in a unique palette particular to him. He consistently dressed sharp in a style that would garner a few pages in GQ. Still, it was flashier then Sam Beckett's more laid back style of blue jeans and button down shirts. Today was no exception. Al was wearing a bright deep purple silk shirt with black piping and a thin purple and blue tie. The blue in the tie was matched to the color of his pleated slacks, also in a fabric that indicated that the man tended to shop in rather expensive haberdasheries and not the local mall Gap. Not that there were any local malls in the vicinity of the project.

"What do you need, Sam?" Al asked casually. He was holding an unwrapped and unlit cigar, abiding with the no smoking policy at the project.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck. The headache that had been plaguing him for the past two days continued to annoy him. "Uh, well, I was wondering where the cabling for the Imaging Chamber is?"

Al's eyebrow went up. "You mean the cabling you asked for about a week ago?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, nodding.

Al shrugged. "I ordered it last week when you told me you needed it."

Annoyance crossed the physicist's face. "I need it now."

"Ever hear about a concept called lead time?" If Sam was annoyed, Al could match it. After all, he'd had to pull quite a few strings to get the order set up as quickly as he had. He'd put a rush on it and the materials would be arriving in approximately three and a half weeks. This particular order should have been put in place at least three months earlier.

Now Sam's eyebrows rose. "You've never needed much lead time before."

"You've never asked for special cabling like this before."

"Didn't you see the schedule?"

"Yeah, what of it?" Al didn't appreciate the sound of studied patience in Sam's voice. If that sound were coming from anyone but Sam, he'd peg it as condescending.

"The schedule showed that we'd be starting the Imaging Chamber this week." The studied patience continued.

"Okay." Al still didn't see where Sam was going with this.

"That means the cabling needed to be here. Now."

There it was. Sam was explaining this to him as if he were a child. Well, it was the physicist who didn't understand what was going on. "But Sam, the schedule isn't a requisition. How was I supposed to know which cabling you were going to need? Or if you were going to change the specifications or something like that?"

Sam started to pace. "Al, if I can't get that cabling in immediately, the project will fall behind schedule!"

Al watched Sam walking back and forth, his long legs striding a few steps before turning and repeating the movement in the other direction. "I can't help that, Sam. You don't give me the information when I need it, I can't help you with it. That cabling required special treatment and comes from a sole source vendor that is already at capacity supplying many of the other materials you need. It's gonna take almost a month before we'll be able to get it."

"That's unacceptable, Al." The physicist's voice radiated with slight heat.

Al answered dryly, "That's reality, Sam."

Sam narrowed his eyes, accusation pouring from his eyes. "Great! Just great! You drop the ball and we're now almost a month behind schedule. How do you think the committee is going take that news?"

Al's eyes widened, not believing what he was hearing. "I dropped the ball? Excuse me, Mr. Six Doctorates. I didn't drop the ball. The information was not given to me in a timely fashion nor with the proper need level. I handled the requisition exactly the way it should have been handled based on the data provided." He finished by crossing his arms. No way was he going to take the blame when Sam was clearly at fault.

Sam's eyes flashed. His tone was sharp. "If you hadn't been spending your time on extracurricular activities, you might have noticed that the cabling would be needed this week, regardless of the information given."

"What's that supposed to mean, Sam?" Al's voice held the calm of a coiled snake.

"I've seen you with that waitress at the Owl. Lynnette. Are you trying to make her your next conquest?" The derisive sound was not a typical one from the physicist.

"That was uncalled for, Sam." Al stated simply but with a warning in his voice as well.

"Why, 'cause she has the sense to turn you down on a regular basis?"

"Sam. What happens between me and a lady is between us. I thought we were talking about the project."

"Yeah. We were. It's just that this delay is your fault." Sam stood there, his arms crossed over his chest. His stance uncharacteristically towered over Al.

_I don't have to take this. The Kid is obviously having a bad day, better to just leave, _Al thought turning away. He was angry right now and, with the headache he had, he knew this was not an argument to continue at the moment. Hell, it was no wonder that he had a headache. He'd had to deal with Sam's childlike attitude for the past two days. Sam was being petulant and, from Al's perspective, acting very obstinate. Al figured that it might be due to getting what seemed to be no more than three to four hours of sleep each night for much of the last six years. It obviously had caught up to the 'genius' who claimed not to need much rest. Al didn't believe that and had tried to get Sam to take better care of his health, but the Kid would push himself too far. "We'll talk about this when you can discuss the issue rationally."

Sam had to shoot a last barb. "Can't take the truth, huh, buddy?" The words held a viciousness that caused Sam's partner to stop in mid-stride.

Al turned around slowly, eventually facing his best friend straight on. If looks were daggers, both men would have been impaled. Neither one was giving the other the benefit of civility.

Suddenly, a male voice was heard coming from throughout the room, no place in particular. "Now, boys!" Both men looked up as the voice continued, "Quit fighting now or I'll zap your neural networks."

The new computer that Sam had designed had come online a couple of days before. Al recognized the voice as Ziggy, the name that he had given to the computer. He'd felt it had a nicer ring then Sam's Alpha. Al answered the computer which incorporated Sam's brain cells and his nerve cells, "He's the one accusing me of screwing up the project."

Sam answered, this time mixed with the viciousness, an accusatory tone had been blended in. "You screwed enough women since we started. Why not my project?"

Al didn't need to hear anymore; he suddenly had had enough. He pulled back his arm as if to hit Sam. Ziggy sent an electrical charge running through the former Golden Gloves champ. It wasn't enough to really hurt him but it was enough to cause him to flinch. "OUCH!!!! All right! All right!! Stop it!"

Sam was somewhat concerned that Ziggy would shock Al, but on the other hand, the man really had deserved it from his point of view. "You know, Al, if you had just read the project reports a little closer…"

Al stated vehemently, calling out to the disembodied voice, "Hey! Why aren't you picking on Sam? He's pushing my buttons again!"

Ziggy answered, arrogance dripping. "Dr. Beckett...bringing up the past will not help matters. What's done is done. I'm sure the Admiral had his reasons." Ziggy stopped a beat and then added, "What they are...the deity that humans reference as God only knows." He then added to Al, "And, Admiral...you have been known to push my father's buttons as well."

Al rubbed his head. "Oh, lecture him but give me a jolt!"

Ziggy answered. "_You_ were threatening bodily harm."

Al's voice was heated as he answered, "I was challenging him, not threatening him."

The computer's voice replied, "There was a 98.3 percent chance that you would have thrown what I believe you would refer to as a 'punch.'"

Answering, the feisty Italian defended his actions, "Well, then you would have been wrong! I wouldn't hit Sam. At least, not without giving him a chance to defend himself."

Ziggy's voice took on a higher level of haughtiness. "I am not _wrong_, Admiral. As a parallel-hybrid computer, I take into account multiple data streams. Your heart rate and brainwave activity indicated that you were at the point of action."

Al continued to argue, "A little dancing here and there followed by storming off to the gym to blow off steam isn't a threat!"

Ziggy was not backing down. "At any rate Admiral, as I indicated to Dr. Beckett. The past is past. Move forward."

Al rolled his eyes in annoyance and muttered, "I'd like to move you somewhere else."

Ziggy was nonplussed. "Dr. Beckett has determined that the current location is ideal for Project Quantum Leap. Moving it elsewhere would be illogical." Again Ziggy had a slight pause before adding, "But logic has never been your strongest ally, Admiral."

Al rolled his eyes again, looking over to Sam, "You programmed him. You explain it."

Sam answered, a bit of sarcasm in his voice. "Oh, Ziggy, that was low. Al's not that bad!"

Not hearing the tone, Al started to say, "Yeah! I…" when Sam cut him off.

"A bit emotional at times, perhaps. Hot headed, even. But illogical... seldom that entirely."

Suddenly realizing Sam wasn't being the ally he normally was, Al narrowed his eyes at him. "Oh, geez! Thanks, Sam. You're a real help."

Sam shrugged. "Hey, you want me to lie?"

"Maybe a little wouldn't hurt."

Sam continued, too casually from Al's point of view. "Ziggy would _know_ I was lying, Al. He's built using my brain cells. You know that."

Al was upset and he started showing it. "You know, Beckett? I'm getting tired of this whole thing. Something goes wrong and suddenly you're blaming me for it and taking potshots. Well, I don't need this!"

Sam was equally upset. "You want to leave? Is that what you're saying? Well, then, why don't you. I can figure this out on my own!"

Ziggy chimed in. "If the two of you can't come to some sort of a compromise, there is no use for me to continue to maintain the facility. Until you resolve your differences, I will not deem activity in this project to be worth my while. I furthermore suggest that you go elsewhere to do it. I will make the arrangements. You have thirty minutes to pack and if you are not off project grounds within an hour, I will make sure the cooling and ventilation systems are compromised…permanently."

Suddenly, there were messages coming in from all parts of the complex: electricity being shut down, running water being shut off. Critical systems were fine for now but no one was sure what was happening and why. Al indicated that they would take care of it on their end. He looked over to Sam.

The dumbfounded physicist looked at the orb, now darkened. Al had never seen the younger man like this, his mouth slack and open, confusion clearly on his face. Even though Al was really upset with Sam, he couldn't help but feel for the inventor of this computer monstrosity. After all, this entire project had mostly been conceived in that Nobel Prize winning skull of his. Sam looked utterly lost but then just as suddenly walked to an input station and started typing.

Al watched as Sam tried every trick he could to try to access the computer's core. Ziggy had blocked all possible input ports.

"Damn it!" Sam exclaimed, frustration tangible. "I can't believe Ziggy is doing this!"

The orb suddenly lit up and the supercilious voice piped into the room. "You now have twenty-five minutes to pack." After the announcement, the orb darkened again. Sam gazed in horror at the darkened sphere, realizing he had no choice. His voice was a bit shaky as he stated, "We're going to have to leave, Al."

"You're going to leave because a computer tells you to? You've got to be freaking kidding me!" Al hadn't expected that. Sam always seemed to have a solution. They weren't always the best ones and Al sometimes needed to show Sam a superior remedy to the problem at hand. Now the Kid wasn't saying anything except to acquiesce to several thousand pounds of silicon and electronics.

The expression in Sam's eyes somewhat shocked the older man. Sam looked scared. "Ziggy can do it Al! He can hose the systems!" He started to pace, "I...I need more time to get in. I don't understand what went wrong! There must be something in the coding I missed!" He stopped. "I need to fix this or the committee is going to have my ass!"

Al nodded. He didn't want to have to face the committee anymore than Sam and tell them the billions of dollars they had poured into PQL had been wasted before the project even had a chance to get off the ground.

Al had realized early on that the Kid was onto something. He may not have multiple doctorates like Sam, but his own doctorate in Astrophysics had provided him with the tools to be able to follow Sam's concepts and a good deal of his equations. The project sounded insane but it would work; he was sure of it. He had placed his reputation on the line, had backed Sam to the hilt. If this project failed, they would both fall together. Al was sure neither of them would get another chance.

Putting aside his anger for the time being, he stated, "Okay, Sam. If you say we need to heed the words of this overgrown bucket of bolts, then we need to. I'm going on record, though. This makes no sense whatsoever. Who's in control here, the computer or its creator?"

As Sam looked at him, Al felt a chill run up his spine. Sam's face revealed he was likely too afraid to look closely at the answer to the question.

_Wednesday, August 25, 1993_

_3:00 p.m._

They met at the motor pool a half hour later. Al had two small suitcases. Sam had six.

"What the hell is all that?" Al asked, incredulously.

Sam looked at him, surprised, "What?" He gazed around, wondering if he'd grown a second head the way the Al was acting.

Al blew out a short breath. "We aren't moving to another state, Sam. You can leave the kitchen sink behind." Al gestured to the multiple luggage that Sam had at his feet.

Sam gave the items he'd packed a glance. "Um...well...clothes and other necessary items like shoes and toiletries. Work including a laptop, snacks..." He stopped his inventory and then stated plainly, "there's nothing here except things we would need on this trip which Ziggy has deemed necessary. We don't know for certain how long this will take. I believe in being prepared."

Al looked again at the multiple bags. "No way all that is going to fit in the Ferrari." He looked over to his car and then back to Sam. "You need to learn to pack more condensed."

The Motor Pool officer came up just as Al had pointed out the space problems with his car. "I've been told not to allow you to take the Ferrari, Admiral. Something about the liabilities inherent with a private vehicle when on work related travel."

Al was sarcastic. "I wouldn't call being kicked out over a minor disagreement work related. We're taking the Ferrari." Al started for the sleek vehicle and opened the door.

Sam shook his head. "I hate to say it, Al, but he's right. Since we're both partners and the only reason we're doing this is to get the program up and running again, it is work related. Besides, if something happens to your car, the project's insurance wouldn't cover it." He stopped a second before adding, "And with as whacked as things have gone today, I certainly wouldn't want to put my car at risk and it's only a Jeep."

A breath exited from Al swiftly, "Fine." He closed his car door and followed Sam and the officer to classy Cadillac Deville. "Just... don't speed."

Sam's countenance couldn't have been more astonished. "You want me to drive? I was planning to work on the laptop while we were driving."

Sarcasm dripping, Al replied. "Of course, you were. Can't have Dr. Beckett spend more than three seconds away from his precious calculations." He snatched the keys from motor pool officer. "Knock yourself silly." They put most of the luggage into the trunk but the things they might need in the car in the back seat. Sam kept the computer bag in the front with him. After they were ensconced in the car, Al asked, "Where did you want to go first?"

Sam was at a loss. "I don't know." Suddenly they heard a chirping sound from the computer bag. Sam bent down and unzipped one of the compartments, pulling out what looked like a Plexiglas calculator. "Great...he's talking to us now."

Al growled, "Tell me he's going to stop being a pain in the butt and let us back in." Watching Sam press a couple of buttons on the small device, he frowned as he noted the expression on the physicist's face.

Sam shook his head, matching Al's frown. "I don't think he's permitting us back in. The link says, 'Reservations have been made in Socorro at the Desert Oasis for one night in the name of Albert Calavicci. Have a nice trip.'" Sam gazed at the Plexiglas handlink as if it were an alien technology rather than his own creation. "This is unreal! Now he's telling us where to go!"

Al glanced at the handlink, a wry grin on his face. "Oh, yes, Beckett. This is real and even better. I wouldn't be surprised if he even used my credit card to make the reservation." Al buckled himself in, waited for Sam to do the same, and turned the engine on.

Sam added softly under his breath..."I can't believe that I can't rein in this computer! He's like HAL in 2001! There has to be a way to hack into him, reset some parameters. A computer shouldn't be able to do this." He looked again at the handlink. "This wasn't in the specifications."

"Your computer, your fault," Al told him before carefully driving out of the parking garage and pulling onto the dirt road that would lead them eventually to the narrow two-lane highway.

Sam's head snapped towards Al's and with a somewhat heated expression in his eyes, he responded, "Don't you think I _know _that, Al? If I can't fix this, there's no way anyone's going to be able to use the Accelerator. If Ziggy isn't operating as designed, it would be too dangerous."

Al shrugged, "Well, then, fix it."

Sam answered, the heat in his eyes now seeping out in his voice, "Why the hell do you think I want to work on the laptop while we're driving? The sooner I can figure this out, the sooner we can get back to what's important."

Al ignored Sam's tirade. "Hey, you hungry?"

Sam didn't say anything for a moment. He'd felt somewhat distracted and suddenly realized that Al had asked him a question. The heat dissipated suddenly. "What?"

"Hungry. You hungry? You know, like in consumption of food?"

Sam looked at the driver, nodding. "I guess...a little. Where are you thinking of?"

"The Owl. I'm starved. I sure could do with a good burger," Al answered conversationally.

"If you want a good burger, the Buckhorn would be better," Sam answered in counterpoint.

This particular argument had started almost as soon as they had found the site for PQL. StarBright, while in NM, had been above ground where observations of the heavens through various instruments ranging from optical to radio telescopes could be performed. PQL, though, was build underground, close to the Trinity Bomb site on White Sands Missile Range. San Antonio, NM, the closest town to the project, had little other than the two restaurants that both claimed to have the best Green Chili Cheeseburgers in the state.

Sam had taken to the Buckhorn right away, Al to the Owl. Neither one was willing to give on which place they liked best but usually one would acquiesce for the sake of a shared meal. Today's other argument was still making its presence known within the older, more esoteric one.

Al grimaced. "Are you deliberately trying to put a hole in my stomach? We're going to the Owl."

Sam continued working on the laptop, tossing Al's line of reasoning out as non sequitur. "You can always get the burger without the green chili. And the Buckhorn simply makes a superior burger."

Rather perturbed at Sam's mind-set, Al countered, "What kind of a burger would it be without the green chili? Besides, I refuse to drink my beverage of choice in a paper cup and eat off of a Styrofoam plate. Do you know how bad for the environment that stuff is?"

Sam felt Al was being difficult. "You can always request a glass and a ceramic plate. They've always given you one before."

The response was accompanied by a small, forced breath. "And I usually have people staring at me because of it. Besides... that place is too bright for my mood and I want a cigar and I want Lynnette."

"Ah." Sam feigned amazement, as if he'd discovered a significant truth. "I wondered when the real reason would come up."

Barely sparing the physicist a glare, the older man answered, "What's wrong with a good cigar and an even better waitress?"

Sam glanced over to him, eyes presenting irritation, "It's just that you're so predictable." He paused a moment before adding, "And I can tell you plenty that's wrong with a 'good' cigar."

"I'm not predictable and there is nothing wrong with having an occasional cigar."

"Right. You can't defend that statement. You're just too stubborn to give them up. And, anyways, it's Lynette that really has you trouncing over there every chance you get."

"No, I just really like the atmosphere over there. Lynette has nothing to do with that."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Oh, please, Al...spare me. If there is one thing that I've learned in the eleven years I've known you, if women are involved, you're all over it. I sometimes wonder how we've managed to avoid any sexual harassment charges at the project."

Al was hurt that Sam would infer such actions on him. "There is nothing wrong with the appreciation of the female gender. And I do not harass. I would never dream of imposing myself upon a woman without her complete consent."

Hearing the hurt in Al's voice, Sam conceded but barely. "Hmmm...yeah. I suppose."

Al's sarcasm came back full force. "Oh, gee. Thanks. Glad to know that my partner is on my side for a change."

Sam looked over at him, "Sorry, Al. You've got to admit though...you do spend an inordinate amount of time in that 'appreciation.'"

Al had a slight smile with a hint of wistfulness as he replied, "Yeah. Ain't life great?"

Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes again as a thought hit him. "Hey...I have an idea. Why don't you go over to the Owl and I'll go to the Buckhorn. That way both of us will be happy."

"Fine. Suit yourself. At least I won't have to put up with your complaining."

"And I won't have to put up with your cigar or ogling!"

Al gave his passenger another glare before continuing the trip into San Antonio. He pulled the car into a parking space on the west side of the Owl Cafe. Sam got out and walked across the street, heading further west to the Buckhorn. Al stepped out and started for the entrance to the Owl. He called out to Sam, "I'm leaving in an hour and a half. You can walk if you aren't out by then."

Sam turned to him, "Yeah, Al, just leave me in the middle of nowhere. Thanks!"

Al lowered his eyelids. "You can call the Project if you need a ride, you know." But even Al had to admit that he probably would wait for Sam, even if he were late in getting back from his lunch. "Okay. I'll wait. Just...go." He wasn't sure that Sam heard him but he waved him off before going into the Owl, letting the door close behind him. Sam had to know that he wouldn't leave him.

Sam continued walking over to the Buckhorn. Suddenly, it didn't feel as good to have gotten his way. He always enjoyed their conversations in either of the venues. It just wouldn't be the same going in without Al. Still...if Al hadn't missed expediting the parts he needed, they wouldn't be a month late on the project schedule and likely to slip more. Maybe it was good they stayed away from each other a little bit. He headed in.

The small establishment wasn't busy but it wasn't empty either. The Buckhorn bartender noticed him and gave him a smile. "Go ahead and have a seat, Dr. Beckett! We'll be right with you!"

"Thanks." Sam was suddenly reminded of the many lunches he'd eaten alone while in college. When most of the students had been going out, he'd either been in class or in a lab or teaching. Many of his meals had been solitary ones except when he was dating someone but that hadn't been a constant. Since coming onto StarBright and meeting Al, he'd become accustomed to sharing a meal with people more times then not. And for the past eight years, it had usually been with Al.

The waitress came to the table. "What can I get you, Dr. Beckett?"

He didn't need to think. He knew what he was going to get. "A green chili cheeseburger, extra onions, and a corona," he told her, smiling.

The waitress looked at the empty side of the booth with a frown as she spoke. "Where's Al today?"

Squirming slightly, he answered, "Ummm...we had an argument, Mary."

"Well, that never stopped you two from having lunch together before. Has it?" Mary was looking at him just like his mother used to on the rare occasions when he and Tom got into an argument.

Conceding the point with a lopsided grin, he responded, "No. It hasn't. I guess today is a bit different. We just decided we both need a little space."

"Must have been some argument," Seeing the look on Sam's face, she gestured towards the kitchen. "I'll just get your order on the grill."

"Thanks." When Mary came back with the beer, Sam added "I don't think Al and I have ever had a fight like this one. I mean...he was ready to punch me out!"

"Oh, that doesn't sound like Al!" she commented, watching as Sam first juiced the lime slice against the lip of the bottle and then forced it into his Corona so that it was sitting inside the bottle.

Sam nodded, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "Yeah...I know...I guess I was a little out of character too." He paused for a moment and then sadly added, "I'm not exactly proud of what I said to him."

Mary paused as if wondering if she should insert herself into the conflict. Finally deciding that she should at least ask, she voiced, "Did you apologize?"

Sam looked up suddenly, heat in his eyes, "Hell, no. I may not have been nice about how I said it...but I was right! If anyone is apologizing, it should be him."

Mary sighed. It was obvious that Dr. Beckett was still upset and, although she seldom saw this side of him, knew he could be a stubborn cuss. "Well, give him some time. I'm sure that everything will work out."

"I hope so." He took a pull on his beer. It tasted good; it was hot out today.

Giving Sam a little smile, the Mary attended to her other customers while Sam's cheeseburger was being prepared. A few minutes later, the burger was brought out with a rather large bun and hand formed patty. He noted that his beer was almost empty and ordered a second one. He took a bite from his burger and was rewarded with the burn of green chili. That's what he loved about these burgers!

Mary brought him the second beer and he repeated the juicing of the lime and forcing it into the bottle. Sam continued to sip his beer and enjoy the best green chili cheese burger anywhere.

_Wednesday, August 25, 1993_

_3:30 p.m._

Al felt a sliver of the tension in his shoulders ease as he walked into the Owl. Okay, so the ambiance was brighter and a little more cheery at the Buckhorn. But Al wasn't in a cheery mood. The darker lighting in the Owl suited his mood to a "T" at the moment. Pulling out a cigar, he cut off the end and lit it, puffing on it to get the ambers burning evenly. When he was satisfied with how it was burning, he walked into the main room.

"Hi, Al!" Lynnette tossed over her shoulder. "Sit anywhere you want. I'll be right over."

Al grinned winningly at her words and followed her suggestion. Finding a booth just across from the bar, he slid in, occupying his time by noting the various dollar bills and photos that adorned the walls. The place really reminded him of some of the many bars he had visited during his flying days, before Vietnam.

Lynnette finished serving the other table and came over to Al, pulling out her pad. "So, Al, same as always? Green chili burger but chili on the side and an A&W Root Beer?"

He gave her another winning smile to match the first. "Unless your boss has decided to go with my suggestion and make a specialty root beer, darling."

"You know we're never going to do that, Al. Even with all the people coming into town to check out the 'war,' there's not enough business for that to be profitable." She paused a moment before asking "By the way, where's your sidekick?"

"Across the street," he told her bluntly. "And he can just stay there, for all I care."

"That doesn't sound like the Al I know. I mean, I've seen you two arguing over things but never getting… you know… mad. What happened?" Lynette leaned against the edge of the booth, allowing the hand with the pad in it to drop to her side.

Al chuckled bitterly. "Oh, it was a doozy. The damned nozzle goes and accuses me of holding him back when he didn't even give me a chance! And then, he starts bringing up every little idiosyncrasy I have and practically accuses me of being the spawn of the devil himself!"

Lynette shook her head. "That doesn't sound like Dr. Beckett either. He's usually so…I don't know...quiet and nice."

Al huffed out a breath, stating with vehemence, "Believe me, darling. Nice and quiet are _not_ the words to describe him." Al looked up at her. "You've never seen the man when he's on a good stubborn." He rubbed his forehead. "Anyway, I didn't come in here to dwell on Sam Beckett." He gave her a lecherous smile. "How about that beer?"

Lynette smiled, "Coming right up, Al."

The order was placed and Al's root beer was brought to him in a red plastic glass with a straw.

Al's smile dropped the moment Lynette was out of sight. "Damn it, Beckett. All you had to do was let me know ahead of time when exactly you needed that requisition. It isn't that hard!"

About five minutes later, his burger arrived via Lynette and was served on a small plate with a paper underneath the burger to sop up any excess grease. Admittedly, the burgers at the Buckhorn were bigger, but they were still mighty tasty at the Owl. The patties were hand formed at the Owl just like at the Buckhorn. And Al preferred the more conservation-oriented Owl. And not just for the plastic, reusable plates and cups. The fries were crispy on the outside and soft and warm on the inside, just like Al liked it. Plus, the burgers weren't as spicy, which was a benefit to Al's weakened digestive system.

Putting a small amount of the green chili on the burger, Al loaded it up with ketchup and mustard before taking a bite.

He was savoring the flavor when Lynette came up to Al. "Hey, do you know who might be driving that Cadillac that is parked on the west side? George is wondering if it can be moved. We're having the blacktop people coming in today to take care of that side of the building."

Al put down his burger. Waving his arm, he answered, "Pave over it. Just let me get the luggage out first."

Lynette's jaw dropped. "That's the car _you're_ driving? Al, it's just not you! What happened to your little red Ferrari?"

"Tell me about it," Al commented. "But you know how businesses are. If you are on their time, they want you to drive their vehicles. I had to leave the Ferrari at home."

Lynette sighed. "I wouldn't know. I only have the 1978 Ford pickup that Bill left me in the divorce. I guarantee the Owl's not going to give me a car to drive!"

Al lowered his eyelids seductively. "And why haven't you invited me in your cab for a test drive yet, Lynette?"

"You're welcome to take a test drive with me anytime, not that it gets much pick 'em up. But really, can you move the sedan? I don't want George getting upset."

Al sighed slightly. "All right. Keep the burger warm for me, will you?" At Lynette's nod, Al went out to move the vehicle. He found all the spots along the front were filled, so he had to park the car on the east side of the building. After moving the vehicle, he headed back in to enjoy his lunch.

Thirty minutes later, Sam walked out of the Buckhorn and started walking across the street. He stopped suddenly, his mouth dropping open. He knew where Al had parked. He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. "Great. He did it. He left me!" he said out loud to the New Mexican desert.

He turned and walked back to the restaurant where he'd just finished his lunch, quite a bit upset. He tried to call the project but Ziggy would not allow his call to be taken. Continuing on the same path, the situation conveyed him into an angrier mood. He figured he had no choice but to start walking to Socorro. Perhaps he could hitch a ride there.

Sure enough, a car came by and picked him up on the service road, the driver agreeing to let him off at the Socorro exit.

_Wednesday, August 25, 1993_

_5:00 p.m._

Al sat in the Owl and finished his burger, topping it off with a dessert that seemed to make the world a better place, in his opinion. Paying his bill, he gave Lynette a friendly kiss on the cheek before heading out the door. Maybe this day would get better after all.

He should have realized that the stars, as usual, had it in for him.

Al looked around the parking lot with a frown. No Sam. He looked at his watch, wondering what was taking him so long. He walked over to the Buckhorn, ready to quote Sam the Riot Act about dragging his heels. He was livid when he learned that the latter had left a good ten minutes before.

Mary explained, "He tried to call to his work but said the damned computer wouldn't answer his call."

The bartender added, "I noticed him walking off in the direction of I-25."

Al looked at him, incredulous. "You're kidding me. Sam's not that stupid."

"Listen, all I know is what I saw. Dr. Beckett seemed awfully upset and angry."

Al pinched the bridge of his nose. "This isn't happening," he muttered under his breath. "Thanks," he told the waitress and bartender before leaving the Buckhorn and heading for the car.

"George should have paved over the car," he groused. Getting into the vehicle, he pulled out of the parking area and started west towards I-25, assuming that Sam made the dim-witted decision to walk to Socorro, which at fifteen miles was one hell of a walk. He was somewhat annoyed by a prickling sensation bothering him, as if he needed to hurry to his destination.


	2. Chapter 2

**THE OTHER SIDE OF LIFE**

**CHAPTER TWO**

_Wednesday, August 25, 1993_

_4:50 p.m._

As Sam opened the front passenger side door to the car that had stopped to pick him up, he noticed there was another person in back seat lying down that he couldn't really make out. Sam slid onto the bucket seat of the Thunderbird. They had gone up the road a little ways when the driver said to him. "You know, I'm a pretty nice guy, but my buddy in the back isn't always so nice."

Sam was about to answer when he heard the guy in the back seat say roughly, "Don't turn around."

Sam wasn't sure what he meant until he heard the sound of a revolver being cocked and felt a metal cylinder pressed against his skull. "Ummm...okay...let's not do anything rash. What do you want?" He stated the words with a calm he didn't feel.

"We want your wallet and that watch you're wearing. Just throw them over the back of the seat," answered the man in back who at this point was holding all the cards.

Sam nodded. He was terrified but figured if he just did what they asked, he had a better chance of surviving the encounter. Keeping his composure, he removed his wallet, an old decrepit Velcro one that looked as if it had seen better days. His watch, though, was a solid state time computer, LED digital watch from the Hamilton/Pulsar Watch Company which his sister had given him a number of years before. It had an inscription on the back.

The driver stated, "I want that calculator too. It looks cool."

Sam was confused, "What calculator?"

He nodded his head toward Sam's chest. "The one in your shirt pocket."

"That's not a calculator" Sam answered, hoping to keep the handlink.

"What is it, then?" the man asked.

"It's a computer interface. It wouldn't be much use to you."

"I don't care. I want it anyways."

"Throw it back here too," the man in the back snarled.

Sam sighed and took it out of his pocket. He took a deep breath, gave it one final look, and then threw his link to Ziggy over the seat. Once the men had what they wanted, they slowed the car down a bit. "Open your door," ordered the man in back.

"Um, the car is moving…and…"

He felt the gun barrel being pushed up against the back of his head again. He opened the door and saw the road moving rather quickly as the car continued on with constant velocity. Closing his eyes, he waited for the bullet to enter his skull, wondering if he would feel anything in the split second until his life ended.

The barrel was suddenly pulled away from his head providing the physicist relief that was quickly quashed as the man in the back hit Sam on the head with the butt of the revolver stunning him. He felt the driver push him out the door. As he fell towards the pavement he heard the car accelerate as they sped away, leaving Sam in their vapor trail.

_Wednesday, August 25, 1993_

_5:10 p.m._

Al had driven only four miles before he saw the form of a man on the side of the highway. His heart in his throat, he quickly pulled over, put the car into park, and ran to it knowing from silhouette that it was his best friend.

"Sam! Sam, can you hear me?" Checking the physicist carefully, he winced at what he saw. Sam's face and elbows were pretty cut up and he had gravel in his wounds. Not to mention the nice bump that was forming on the back of his head. Thankfully, though, there were no broken bones or evidence of any life threatening injury.

"Ohhh...what..." Sam started, obviously not quite coherent.

"Come on. Let's get you fixed up. What happened?" Getting no answer, Al carefully pulled Sam up to his feet and guided him to the car.

Sam shook his head attempting to throw off his dazed look. He peered at Al, a question on his face. "Where did you go? The car was gone. I thought you'd left me!"

"I was in the Owl, Sam. They had me move the car so they could blacktop the parking lot." Al looked at him with concern. "I wouldn't leave you, Sam. I might threaten. But I wouldn't leave you."

"Well, I didn't know that. I hitchhiked. The guys who picked me up turned out to be thieves..." As his mind went over the past few minutes, his face contorted and he verbally exploded, "Oh DAMN, DAMN, DAMN!"

"You got mugged?!" Al exclaimed with alarm as he forced Sam to sit in the back seat of the car, pulling out the first aid kit as he did so.

"Al, they got the handlink!"

Al looked at Sam for a moment, slight shock on his face before he refocused on the task at hand, namely cleaning up his friend and making sure he was okay. "We'll build another one when we get back," he told him plainly. "Let me see your forehead."

"You don't get it do you? They got the handlink." Sam was agitated. "Oh, man...the committee's not going to like that I lost a $10,000 piece of equipment! And the prototype to boot!"

"I'll take care of it," Al told him more firmly. "You're more important than a lousy $10,000. Now, let me see your hands."

Sam continued moving around, not letting Al take care of his wounds. Al sighed in frustration. "Beckett, are you going to let me take care of your cuts or do I have to take you to the hospital and have them strap you down?" As he was trying to calm Sam down, he noticed that the watch Sam always wore wasn't on his wrist. He wasn't surprised. A thief would see a fine watch like that as something to pawn.

When Sam finally stopped moving, allowing Al to clean the cuts, Al spoke as he gently wiped the wounds with the antiseptic cloths. "They got your watch," he said matter-of-factly, although there was a sense of condolence in his voice.

Sam's face took a downturn. "Yeah...Katie saved all year when she was 20 for that watch."

"I'll take care of that too." Al was using a Q-Tip to brush on antibiotic ointment.

Grimacing, Sam asked, doubt evident in every word, "How are you going to take care of it, Al?

Al stopped and looked into Sam's eyes. "Trust me. I'll take care of it."

Looking at his friend, wishing he could trust the look in his eyes, the younger man suddenly exclaimed, "You know, Al... today just really sucks rocks!"

Al couldn't help but chuckle slightly at that. "You can say that again." Finishing his ministrations, he stood up. "We better get going."

"I suppose." Sam was despondent. He was sure that everything was coming apart at the seams. The computer, the project, his friendship. How stupid could he be!

Taking a deep breath and a long look at his friend, Al responded. "Look. Let's just get to Socorro and check in. Then we can decide our next step. Did you have anything else project related with you that they took?

Blanching white, the injured man exclaimed, "I had my PQL access card with me! I didn't take it out 'cause we were so rushed!"

With a sigh came the answer. "I'll take care of it, too."

Despondency turned to fretfulness. "Just how are you gonna take care of it, Al? Huh? Those jerks put a gun to my head and I give them everything. There's no way you can take care of this." Sam shook his head and hotly added, "I must be the dumbest guy on the face of the planet. Getting in a car with two people I don't know!"

"Smart people do stupid things when they're frustrated and angry. It happens all the time, especially with you." He regretted the words the moment they came out of his mouth.

Sam looked at his partner, eyes narrowed. "So...you're saying I'm frustrated and angry most of the time?"

Al lowered his eyelids. "I'm saying that..." He sighed. "Never mind."

"No, Al... spit it out. You usually say exactly what you think."

Al took a breath. "Well, you don't often think things through before jumping ahead and making assumptions."

"So now I just go off half-cocked!" Sam looked away. By the set of his jaw, Al could tell he was ticked.

Al tried again, not sure he wasn't just digging in deeper but wanting Sam to know he appreciated the man's uniqueness. "Sam, it's just that with someone with as high an IQ as yours - although I'm still not sure how they came up with a number of 235 - well…you don't always see things the same way as everyone else."

The physicist turned his head suddenly, glaring at Al. "Hey...you're knocking my IQ now? First you tell me I'm frustrated and angry. Then you tell me I go off half-cocked. now you tell me my IQ isn't accurate? God, Al...with friends like you..."

"No, Sam. You just... well, you react." He shrugged. "Anyway, it's a moot point. We got to get back on the road and to our hotel." He looked at Sam's pupils. "I don't think you have a concussion. Maybe you should lie down and rest in the back seat."

"I'm not lying down in the back seat. I'll just sit up front." Sam obstinacy continued to rise.

Al put his hands up as if to say 'have it your way' and got out of the way as Sam stood up quickly. The sudden change in blood pressure caused the physicist to stumble. Al put out a steadying hand. Sam growled out, pushing the hand away, "I'm all right."

Al sighed and held his hands up splayed in front of him. "Fine." He walked around the car to get into the driver's seat. "Could give stubborn lessons to a mule," he muttered under his breath.

Sam walked to the front passenger side and opened the door, getting in. With his voice dripping with sarcasm, he stated, "Come on, Al. We might as well find out what lovely things are still waiting for us. The way the day is going, Murphy must be laughing his ass off."

"He's having a regular field day," Al commented as he started the engine again and eased back onto the highway. After allowing Sam to sulk in silence for a few minutes, he started casually, "You remember anything about that car, Sam?" Even before Sam spoke, Al pressed a couple of buttons on the console.

Sam heard the reasonableness in Al's voice and felt a little guilty for the way he'd been acting since Al had found him on the side of the road. He should be grateful, not petulant. He brushed off his attitude, figuring it was just the residual fear from having been mugged affecting him. That and the headache had only continued to get worse. Now it was pounding out a rhythm more in line with a jackhammer.

Sam closed his eyes, remembering. "Yeah... it was a Ford Thunderbird, probably an '80 or '81 model, dark blue. It had bucket seats in fake leather. There was a pair of green, spongy dice with black spots hanging from the rearview mirror. The car smelled like they were smokers and the ashtray overflowing confirmed that. The driver was sandy-haired and I don't know what the guy in the back looked like...but he had a revolver."

When Sam hesitated, Al gently pressed, "What kind of revolver?"

Sam shook his head. "I'm not sure...I didn't get a look at it but from the way it clicked and the feel of the barrel against my head, I think it might have been a .44."

Hearing his friend talk so casually about having a loaded gun against his skull gave Al a shiver. He knew that Sam was just pulling on the fact that his memory was better than most. Still, the sheer lack of emotion was disconcerting. Instead, he asked, "Anything else you can remember?" Al's gaze shifted from the road to the dashboard.

"Hmmmm...I think that's about all, not that it matters. They're never going to catch those guys." Sam slumped a bit. The despondency was back.

"Trust me. I'll take care of it." Al gave a slight smile when he saw the small green light on the dashboard come on, assuring him that Sam's information was in good hands.

As they pulled up to the old 1960's style two story motel, the Desert Oasis, Sam noticed the neon Palm Tree sign that might still light up in the night sky. He remembered staying in some of these old places during trips with his family when he was a boy. He and Tom had always loved the pools.

"Oh, this looks... interesting," Al commented with a voice that indicated the word was being used as a euphemism. He never was fond of motels. The rooms weren't big enough for his tastes. But it was only one night. He supposed he could put up with one night. After parking the car just in front, Sam and Al both got out of the vehicle and headed into the lobby area. There was a short, skinny guy with a pimply complexion behind the counter reading the sports page. The two men waited a moment before Al said, "Excuse me. We'd like to check in."

The clerk raised his head and looked first at one and then the other. "You're kidding, right?" His gaze indicated that they were not worth missing the news on his favorite team. Still he got up and asked, "Do you have a reservation?"

"Under Calavicci."

The man nodded and checked the reservation. His eyebrow rose for just a second and then he asked Al to fill in the little card with all the pertinent information

As Al slowly started to fill in the card he asked, "Where can we get a good cup of

coffee?"

Sam frowned at his question. "How can you think of coffee after what just happened?"

Al raised his head to look at his friend. "Quite simple. I want coffee. And I want you to relax. You can have a cup of tea if you'd prefer."

Sam shook his head. "I don't think I'm gonna relax. You know what the committee is going to do when they find out about all this? I'll be lucky if I can get a job sweeping floors on someone else's project!"

Al sighed. "They wouldn't waste your talents like that, Sam. I told you... I'm taking care of it. The committee will only have to worry about whether or not you are alive. And you are. So... tea or coffee right after we check in."

Sam wasn't letting it go. "I still can't understand what you think you can do. Those guys are long gone and we haven't even contacted the police yet.

Turning to Sam, Al cut his bickering short. "Stop it, Sam. Just stop thinking about it. Give me the benefit of the doubt, okay? I've pulled tougher rabbits out of my hat than this one."

Sam sighed, shaking his head. He was just pointing out what anyone could see. If Al wanted to delude himself, who was he to try and remedy that. "Okay. Whatever..."

Al rolled his eyes before accepting the keys to the motel room. He noticed that they'd been given a second floor room. "Do you have a first floor room?"

The clerk shook his head. "No, we're booked up. We have a festival in town tomorrow and the rooms are all booked. You were lucky to get a room as it is."

Al nodded. "Okay. We'll be at that coffee shop if anyone calls for us," he told the clerk before grabbing Sam's arm and pulling him out of the lobby." They walked out to the car. Sam stood there for a moment, still lost in thought. Al tried to get his attention. "Sam… Sam… In the car. Coffee. Tea."

Sam slipped into the passenger side. He sat cross armed, not saying a word as they headed toward the restaurant. He was definitely in a snit. When they got to the establishment, he excused himself to go to the restroom.

Al, on the other hand, ordered a sugar-free cappuccino for himself and a pot of orange spice tea for Sam. The waitress brought the cappuccino and he sipped at it as he waited for Sam to return.

Finally, Sam made his appearance at the table, sitting down across from Al..."They really did a number on me. I look like I've been in a fight."

"You have been, Sam. One for your life. You did the right thing letting them rob you. They could have killed you."

Nodding and shaking slightly at the memory, the younger man replied, "I was terrified, Al. I thought they'd do that anyways. I really believed that my life was at an end. I guess it was a good thing there weren't any cars coming when they pushed me out."

"I'm glad that you weren't seriously hurt," Al stated emphatically.

"Yeah...I was really lucky I guess."

Nodding, Al gestured towards the pot of tea. "I ordered you a tea. That orange stuff you're so fond of."

"Okay...fine. I don't know why you're insisting I drink something though."

"Because if you don't relax, you won't sleep a wink tonight, that's why. You've just got to trust me. Things will work out."

"Al... I'm not going to be able to sleep anyways. I can't believe I gave them the handlink. Just threw it over the seat." He took a sip of the tea.

"Handlink or bullet. Don't think you had much of a choice there, Sam." He was taking another sip of his coffee when he noticed a police officer entering the cafe. After talking with a hostess, the officer started towards the two men.

Sam was oblivious to the officers. "Well...when the committee realizes I lost $10,000 worth of equipment, I might have preferred the bullet."

"Don't talk like that! They won't ever hear about it," Al assured, looking up as the two lawmen approached.

Al had known that Sam would continue on this line of thought. When Sam got stuck on something, it was like hearing a broken record. He gritted his teeth to hear him say yet again, "You keep saying that. We can't keep something of this magnitude from them. You know that."

"Excuse me, gentlemen," the officer put in as he approached. "Are either of you Dr. Samuel Beckett?"

Sam looked up, "I'm Dr. Samuel Beckett."

"We got a tip on some stolen items that belong to you."

Sam was startled. He certainly hadn't expected this. "Excuse me?" He looked at them confused, "How could you know...we haven't called you yet?"

The officer ignored the confusion. "All I know is that someone called it in. We were able to track the suspects and we retrieved... let's see..." He looked down at his pad. "…A wallet, a watch and a calculator. At least, we think it's a calculator."

Sam's eyes grew wide as he heard the list of the items. "How...what...?"

"Caught these guys about fifteen minutes ago trying to pawn the calculator and the watch. Hate to say it but you aren't the first they've done this to."

"Can't say I'm surprised. They seemed to have no problem with taking what they wanted."

"We just need you to come down to the station and verify that these are indeed your belongings. We'd also like a statement and ask you to identify them."

Sam didn't know what else to say. "Okay. But I can't identify the guy in the backseat. I never got a clear look at him"

Al quickly took a draw of the last of his coffee and stood up. "We can follow you, if you don't mind." He got up to start after the officers when Sam called the server over.

Sam asked the waitress for a cup to take the tea in. Now that he'd been drinking it, he decided that Al had a good idea after all. She brought him a Styrofoam cup quickly.

Al grimaced at the take out container but figured that getting the tea into Sam was more important. He watched his friend put on the lid then rise to follow Al. His buddy was still confused.

"I still don't understand how they could figure this out."

"Socorro has a good police department," Al said, shrugging.

"They can't be that good, Al. The thieves sure as hell wouldn't have told them; they were trying to pawn the stuff. Something's up."

The officers were waiting at the door. They paid their bill and exited with them, following the patrol car to the main police station in the sedan and hoping that the necessary paperwork wouldn't take too long.

Sam had been quiet since they'd left the café but as they pulled up to the station he started up again. It was getting on Al's nerves. "It just doesn't make sense. I mean, if someone saw what happened, surely they would have stopped but you're the only one who did. And we sure didn't call it in."

"Well, I couldn't let my friend just lie there on the interstate," Al hedged, ignoring Sam's last comment. He figured if he ignored the issue, perhaps he'd just let it go.

"Yeah. Thanks. As groggy as I was, I'd probably have walked right into traffic. That would probably have killed me as much as any bullet. Probably what those guys were hoping for. They wouldn't have to murder me and it would have been looked at as an accident."

Al cleared his throat for a moment as if uncomfortable at Sam's statement, again said with seemingly the same concern as if man were talking about which wrench to use on the Control Room shelving. "Let's just get this over with and make sure they don't do this to anyone else again."

"Yeah." There was enough picture identification in the wallet to prove that the items were Sam's, other than the "calculator" which didn't have his name on it. But he was able to describe it in detail so they figured it must be his. Sam put the watch back on his wrist and the wallet back in his pocket after checking to see that everything was in it. The five dollars cash that was in it was gone, but all of the cards, including his PQL one were still there.

The paperwork and the line up, though, took longer. It was 11 p.m. before they got out of the station. "Hey, Al? You think that coffee shop is still open? I'm feeling a little hungry."

"We'll take a look. If not, I know of a 24 hour taco stand we can grab something from and take it back to the hotel."

They found that the coffee shop was still open. Sam decided that breakfast sounded pretty good and he ordered the huevos rancheros and a glass of orange juice.

Al, on the other hand, ordered another cup of coffee - decaf this time - and blueberry waffles. They were both eating in relative silence when Sam again brought up the mysterious return of his possessions.

Al let out a frustrated breath. "Give it a rest, Sam. You got them back. That's all that matters, isn't it?"

Sam gave him a look that indicated that he found the situation at least as interesting as figuring out the energy signatures necessary to charge the radium ring of the Accelerator. "Yeah, it matters. It's a mystery. I don't know how I'm going to get to sleep until I solve it!"

Al knew Sam was telling the truth about the possibility of lack of sleep. If Sam needed one thing after this horrible day, it was sleep.

Sam had continued, "I hate it when something like this happens. I mean, everything has to have a logical explanation. Things don't just happen. The police aren't psychic. At least I don't think they are..."

"No, they're not psychic," Al agreed with a sigh. "And you aren't going to get a wink in if I don't fess up."

"What do you mean? You didn't call the police. I was with you all the time."

"Yes, you were. You were also preoccupied while I used the in dash communications link to Ziggy while I was grilling you about the car. He sent that information to the Socorro police."

"You've been in contact with Ziggy?" Sam's stopped his fork in midair as he looked over to Al, disbelief on his face.

Al nodded, cutting a piece of the pancakes with his fork. "In a way."

Sam huffed, "He won't even take my calls. I tried from the Buckhorn. The project operator tried to put me through and then the line went dead. I tried it five times." He put down his fork. "The last time the operator started to tell me there was a computer problem but then the phone went dead."

"It wasn't exactly a phone call, Sam. It's all part of the security system. It was an emergency so Ziggy responded and tracked the handlink."

"I figured you'd left for Socorro. You said if I wasn't out in time, you'd leave. But I was out earlier than the time you gave me and since I didn't see the car, I figured the only choice I had was to start walking." He paused for a moment. "When was the security system put in?"

"Finished last week. All of the project's vehicles have it, including my Ferrari and your Jeep. Took me months to get the whole thing set up. You did ask me to head up security for the complex, didn't you?"

"Yeah... Is that what was keeping you from getting the cables?"

"Hey, you're the one that didn't get the requisition to me in good time."

"I told you it was in the schedule."

"A schedule isn't a requisition form nor does it tell me what kind of cable you specifically need."

"Still... you could have asked me about it."

"I did. And you told me that you would tell me later. Later turned out to be a week before you actually needed it, not the three months it takes for it to be manufactured under current constraints."

"Whatever." Sam paused a moment and then added, "This argument is going nowhere. Let's just drop it for now." He started to pick up his fork again but decided against it. Suddenly the eggs in front of him didn't have the same appeal.

"Fine by me." Al tried to focus on the blueberry waffles but found that he no longer had an appetite. "How about we get back to the motel? It's late and I'm exhausted."

"Okay. I'm pretty tired myself." Sam took care of the check with his credit card and they headed out the door to the car.

The drive back to the motel room was quiet. Few cars were on the road and even fewer people were walking about. Nevertheless, Al wasn't comfortable with the area and decided that it was best if they get into the motel room quickly.

_Thursday, August 26, 1993_

_1:00 a.m._

It was late when they arrived back at the Desert Oasis and were glad they'd picked up the key earlier. Al found he had to park a distance away from the stairs to the upper floor door marked 126 as the rest of the spaces were taken. Not surprising with the entire place booked.

Al turned to Sam. "Here, load up and carry in what you can. I'll secure the car and be right up."

Sam took his luggage, trying to carry way too much. Al was making sure everything was stowed away that they wouldn't be bringing in. Sam opened the door with the keycard, balancing the stuff. He kicked the door open with his foot, finding the room to be very dark. He walked in and soon found the edge of a bed. Putting the things he was carrying on it, he turned to find a lamp. His was rewarded with the feel of a lampshade and figured that there would be a switch on the body of the lamp.

Sam was rubbing his hands along the lamp trying to find the switch. He was getting the distinct impression there was something familiar about the shape of the lamp. Al suddenly switched on the light next to the door and was greatly amused to find Sam Beckett with his hands firmly on the 'body' of the lamp. It was in the shape of a woman's naked form. Sam's one hand was on her hip and the other on her right breast.

As soon as Sam saw what he was doing, he pulled back as if the lamp was white hot.

Al stood by the door, leaning against the door jam. The Kid's face was so freaking shocked. "So, Sam, how long _has_ it been since you had a woman in your arms?"

"That's not funny, Al." Sam was blushing deep red.

"Actually, it's quite hysterical. I just wish I had a camera!"

Sam's shock turned to a glare pointed directly at Al who he knew would not let this go. He was about to say something else but his voice was effectively stopped as the décor of the room suddenly reached their consciousness. The walls were covered with garish red velvet wallpaper and there were mirrors on the ceiling. However, it was when they both simultaneously noticed the single queen size bed that they decided to take action.

They called down to the office. The night clerk reiterated that no other rooms were available, that, no, there were no roll-a-ways and, just to note, it WAS 1 a.m. Both Sam and Al knew that finding another place at this late hour was not likely especially if a place like this was booked solid. They suddenly realized that this was it. Ziggy had booked the room and Sam was ready to pull out all the chips he'd so carefully put in place and melt him down for scrap metal.

He voice was quiet rage as he said to Al, "You take the bed, Al."

Al looked at him, concerned at the tenseness in Sam's shoulders. "Where are you going to sleep?"

"On the floor, of course."

Al shook his head. "And hear you complain when your back is killing you tomorrow. No way. I'll take the floor. I've done it enough in my lifetime."

Sam wasn't going to concede or compromise. "No way, Al. You've definitely got a bad back. As a doctor, I can't let you do that."

Al knew he was pushing it, but he wasn't going to give in. "My back's fine. You take the bed."

Sam voice was adamant. "No, it isn't, Al. You know you should take the bed. I'm sleeping on the floor. That's final."

Al figured there was only one thing he could say. "Then I'm sleeping on the floor too. I'm not taking the bed."

Sam gave up. "Suit yourself, Al." He took a pillow and a cover off the bed and went into the corner, turning his back to Al."

"Hey, aren't you going to get out of your clothes?"

A petulant "No" was all that Al could get out of Sam.

Feeling discretion was the better part of valor, Al decided that two could play that game. He too grabbed bedding from the bed and headed into the opposite corner. As he tried to find a comfortable position he muttered under his breath, "Stubborn mule!"

Sam's voice piped up. "I heard that. I'm not stubborn."

Al didn't answer. They both eventually fell asleep. Several hours later, Al awoke from a nightmare. He realized that Sam was probably right. Ever since Vietnam, sleeping on the floor would often trigger nightmares. And Sam was also right about his back. It was really hurting. He looked from Sam, sleeping and slightly snoring, to the bed and decided. "Hey, this is stupid. I'm driving again tomorrow…I should get a good night's sleep." He got up and took the bed.

The next morning, Sam was up early as was his habit since he was a child on the farm. He hadn't slept well and was still yawning. He looked over to the corner where Al had fallen asleep the night before and was surprised when he didn't see him. Hearing a soft buzzing sound coming from the bed, he realized what had happened. While he was glad that Al had finally given in - _after all '__**someone'**__ should use the bed. - _he also noted that Al had been right. His back was killing him. He pulled out the first aid kit and looked for the Tylenol that he knew he would find in it.

After taking the Tylenol, he set up his laptop working on the coding that he'd written to build Ziggy trying to figure out just what had gone so terribly wrong. If he'd been concerned before, the previous day - and night - had only solidified his desire to get to the bottom of Ziggy's problem.

About an hour later, a soft moan came from the bed as Al's eyes slowly opened. Rolling towards one end, Al turned and sat on the edge, rubbing his face before looking around. The room was still horrible but at least the bed was comfortable... for the most part. He slowly stood up and walked towards the only desk in the room, where Sam looked as if he were having the programmer's equivalent of the Heavyweight Championship.

"Any luck?" he murmured around a yawn.

"I just don't get it, Al. Ziggy shouldn't be acting this way. I can't find anywhere in the coding where he'd develop the ability to do what he's doing. I mean, he's the closest to true artificial intelligence that's been built up to this point, but he's still a computer."

"Maybe you made him too smart for his own good. You certainly gave him a big enough ego!" Al joked haphazardly. "Listen, I'm going to go grab a shower and get dressed so we can get out of this dump."

Sam nodded absentmindedly and waved him off, still lost in the work he was engaged in.

After Al was finished, he tapped Sam on the shoulder. He noticed the Kid's muscles were tense. "Hey... you want to get your shower so we can get out of here?" He knew if he didn't get Sam off the computer now, they would be there all day and perhaps another night and that just wasn't going to happen. Not in this place.

"Just a minute more, Al," Sam said as he continued to tackle the dilemma of Ziggy's coding. He again waved Al off, focused on the work before him. Al decided that he'd have to use a little force to get the physicist under a stream of running water.

"No," Al told him plainly, putting his hand in front of the computer's screen. "Now. I'm not spending the rest of this trip here while you tinker with your wunderkind. Get showered and dressed while I pack the car."

Sam looked up at Al ready to argue but noticed the mirrored ceiling. He smiled. "Yeah. I guess you're right. I don't want to stay here any longer than necessary either."

He saved the work he'd been doing and shut off the computer. He headed into the shower and found that the heat of the water somewhat soothed his still aching back.

_Thursday, August 26, 1993_

_8:30 a.m._

After they had gotten cleaned up and checked out, Sam heard the chirping again on the handlink. He took it out of his pocket and read the information presented. "Ziggy's telling us to go to Las Cruces."

"I don't care what that bucket of bolts says. If we have to be out on the road, we're going to Albuquerque. I'm making the hotel arrangements from now on." They put the rest of their things in the car, got in, and headed out.

"Okay. That works for me. You know, since we're out here anyways, we should try to address that problem with the project."

"The only problem with the project is your stupid computer." Al stated, a little venom in his voice.

The hurt in Sam's voice gave Al a bit of pause. "Ziggy isn't stupid."

"Just stubborn like you," the older man quipped back.

"And I told you last night, I'm not stubborn." The justification in Sam's voice was thick.

Al let out a derisive breath, "Yeah, right. Tell me another one, Josephine."

Sam's head popped up. "Josephine? You know a Josephine?"

"Sam, you obviously don't recognize a reference to one of the funniest movies ever made."

The younger man looked hurt. "I recognized it. And the proper line is 'Not tonight, Josephine.' Why to you think I questioned the name? I wasn't sure if you actually knew a Josephine."

"So you've seen the movie, 'Some Like it Hot?'"

Rolling his eyes, Sam gave Al a sarcastic look. 'What, you think I've spent my life holed up in a cave?"

"The thought did occur to me," Al taunted him mercilessly.

"Hey, I enjoy classic film as much as the next guy. I used to go to the student union and watch Monroe pictures all through college. I bet I know more about the picture than you do."

Al chuckled. "You got a bet. So... what's the prize?"

"Um...one who wins buys lunch?"

Al blinked for a moment. "Wait a minute. The winner buys? Isn't that a little backwards?"

"Yeah...well, I figure that after trouncing you, I'll need to cheer you up."

"Oh, ho ho ho, Mister Wise-Guy!" Al grinned. "It's you who's going to be crying tears of defeat!"

"You talk big, Al. Now lets see if you can live up to the words."

"Hey, young 'un. I saw most of the classics before you were even a twinkle in your mother's eye."

"Yeah... but that was my favorite Marilyn picture. I must have watched it a few hundred times."

"Not a million? Let me guess... your favorite scene was when she shook so hard the liquor flask fell from her garter."

"No... it was when Sugar said, 'Story of my life. I always get the fuzzy end of the lollipop.' She just seemed so vulnerable." He paused. "And Al, we both had an equal time to watch this one. The movie came out when I was six, so I couldn't have just been a twinkle."

"I didn't say you were with 'Some Like It Hot'. But I know you were with 'White Heat'. Now, THERE'S a classic!"

"But we're talking about 'Some Like it Hot.' Besides, for a two hour movie, seeing it a million times would require 2 million hours, which would be equivalent to 83,333 days or 228 years and that's assuming watching it over and over 24/7. Even at your age, you couldn't do that."

"Ha ha ha," Al said sarcastically. "You know what? I'm not sure I even want to get into this bet."

Sam had a smug grin on his face. "So you concede?"

"Sure. I could use a free meal anytime."

"Okay...so, how does La Placita on the Plaza sound."

"Sounds marvelous. But since I conceded, I have another stipulation. Since you seem to be in the buying mood, you check out the movies."

"What movies?" The confusion on Sam's face was complete.

"'Some Like It Hot' and 'White Heat'," Al told him. As the confusion on Sam's face deepened, Al explained, "Hey, I wouldn't mind taking it easy and renting some movies. And, if we're going to watch movies about gangsters, we ought to go with the best of the classics."

Sam smiled, finally understanding. "Okay, Al. I'll rent them. But what kind of film is 'White Heat?'"

"I told you. It's a James Cagney picture, the best one he ever did!"

"I mean, is it a comedy like 'Some Like It Hot?'"

Al looked at Sam with a frown. "You honestly never heard of 'White Heat'." Seeing Sam shake his head. "It's a drama… a gangster movie, Sam. A look into the life of the grittier side of prohibition."

Sam shrugged. "Okay. I just haven't seen it."

Al was exasperated. "You know, Beckett, you really ought to broaden your experience."

"Where do you get off saying I don't have a broad experience base? I've got six freaking doctorates!"

Al's retort came back quickly, with a cadence. "And not one of them is in anything fun."

Sam's head tilted and he replied, "Archeology's fun."

"Yeah, it's right up there on my things to do to have fun list, right next to getting a root canal." You could cut the sarcasm in Al's voice with a knife.

Sam gave Al a look that indicated he wasn't overly impressed with Al's idea of fun either. "Yeah… well, I've seen your library. It's filled with what you consider classic playboy and the rest is nineteenth century English romance. Neither of which is my idea of fun."

"It's just like the prudent prince not to appreciate the finer things in life," Al answered back quickly. "There's nothing wrong with appreciating the female form and romance is the best way I've found to woe a woman. They really dig that stuff."

Sam shook his head. "Yeah, you would find an angle like that. And since you brought it up, would you stop calling me that?"

"What?" Al asked.

"The prudent prince. Just because I'm not promiscuous like you doesn't mean I don't appreciate women or their forms."

A grin bloomed on Al's face. "Oh, I could see how much you liked a woman's form last night with the lamp."

Sam glared at Al but kept silent.

"You never answered my question last night, when was the last time you were with a woman?"

In addition to the glare, Sam started blushing. With a voice almost a whisper, he answered, "That's none of your business."

"That's what I thought. You know, you really need to move on. She's not coming back."

Sam looked down at his hands. His voice was still soft. "You don't know that."

Al looked over at the man beside him and understood that the wound still hurt. "Trust me, Sam. She's not coming back." The younger man nodded but didn't seem convinced. Al decided to get the conversation back onto something less painful. "Besides, we're not talking about Donna; we're talking about the movie 'White Heat.'"

"Back to that again." Sam's heart didn't seem to be in the conversation anymore.

"Hey, it's a great movie. You'll love it. It's a classic, pal. That and 'Some Like it Hot' so you get back in touch with your sense of humor. Plus I love the part where Marilyn drops the flask. That scene alone is worth seeing the movie."

Sam finally looked up, and Al saw he had pushed the pain out of his eyes again. "Okay, you win. We'll rent the movies tonight unless something else comes up. Where are we staying?"

"Albuquerque Hilton."


	3. Chapter 3

**THE OTHER SIDE OF LIFE**

**CHAPTER THREE**

_Thursday, August 26, 1993_

_11:00 a.m._

They arrived in Albuquerque late-morning and Al drove straight to the Hilton and obtained a room for them. Two beds. They headed up and dropped off their luggage. Afterwards Sam paid up the bet and bought them lunch. They came back to the hotel to unpack.

As Al finished hanging up his slacks he stated, "I'm going for a swim, Sam. How about you?"

Sam was putting his clothes into the dresser. "I didn't bring any trunks."

Al shrugged. "So get some in the gift shop."

"They're too expensive there."

Al rolled his eyes and shook his head. He put his shirt back on and headed out the door.

"Al, where are you going?"

"You'll see."

Ten minutes later, Al came back in the door, carrying a bag. He pulled out a pair of blue swim trunks in Sam's size. "Here."

"Where did you get it?"

"Down at the gift shop." He held his hand up when Sam started to voice his disapproval. "It's okay, Sam. Those were on sale. Now put them on. I really would like to go to the pool and relax and I don't want to go down alone. If we're going to be banned from the project for awhile, then I'm taking advantage of it."

Sam nodded and took the trunks into the bathroom with him. He emerged a couple of minutes later. They put on the robes from the room, slipped on sandals and sunglasses, and headed down to the pool. Al snagged a couple of chaise lounges and the two put their possessions by it. Al wasn't ready to go into the water yet, but Sam jumped in and swam a few laps. He got out and toweled off, stating, "That felt good." Al smiled but said nothing. Sam couldn't see Al's eyes through his sunglasses but he guessed they were closed.

Laying the towel down, Sam dropped onto the chaise lounge. The heat of the day in addition to the lousy sleep he'd had the night before were conspired to lull him to that in-between state, not quite sleeping but not quite awake either. He could still hear what was going on around him. It stayed like that for about an hour. Suddenly, he heard Al take in a sharp breath. He opened his eyes to see what was going on.

An incredibly gorgeous blond woman wearing a small bikini with stars and blue on the right breast and red & white stripes on the left had started exiting the pool in front of their view. Sam stopped thinking of anything else as his eyes were drawn to her. As she continued exit the water he noticed the bottom of the bikini was blue with stars, just like her right breast. She turned to walk towards the bar area. As she walked by he noted that the back end of the suit was a thong. She had incredibly nice buns. He felt himself responding to the view.

Al stood at attention and saluted, whispering under his voice, "Three cheers for the red, white and blue."

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Sam's voice hinted at his annoyance.

"It's every red-blooded American man's duty to appreciate the flag in all its beauty."

"That wasn't the flag, Al. That was a woman wearing a patriotic bikini."

"It looked like Old Glory to me." He paused a beat before continuing, "You mean to tell me that didn't make proud to be an American… and a man."

Sam nodded, realizing that it might be a good idea to put on the robe. As he did so, he agreed. "She was stunning."

"I'm glad you're not blind… or neutered."

Sam's eyes narrowed and he presented a sarcastic grin. "Funny, Al. Real funny."

"Thanks, I thought it was rather amusing myself."

Sam glared at Al. "I'm going back to the room." 

"Party pooper."

"Unlike you, I have my priorities in the right place. I'm going back to work on my new programming for Ziggy. I still can't believe he did an end run around us." Sam collected his things and walked back toward the hotel.

_Thursday, August 26, 1993_

_3:45 p.m._

After leaving the pool area, Sam headed back to the room. He hadn't been kidding when he'd voiced his opinion of the woman. She was stunning and he certainly had appreciated the view as much as Al, although he thought his friend had called more attention to himself than necessary.

Sam considered the reality of his life since Donna had left him at the altar six years before. He had kept himself locked up in the New Mexican desert since then. At first, they had to wait for the funding and then they had the building stage. Much later there were women on the project, but somehow, it wasn't the same. After all, he was the head of the company and today was the first time he'd really been somewhere where he didn't have the project to occupy his mind 24/7.

When he saw the woman, he definitely hadn't been 'blind or neutered' as Al had so cleverly stated. No. He had definitely had a normal male reaction to a beautiful member of the opposite sex. He'd been somewhat embarrassed and hadn't wanted Al to notice. He knew that Al would say something and he just didn't want to deal with that right now.

He headed back into the bath area and removed his swim trunks, rinsing out the chlorine. Unbidden the vision of the woman as she walked away came to mind and his body responded again. Definitely time for a cold shower.

Sam turned on the water, turning the dial to cold and got in. The shock to his system was enough to take care of his quite natural reaction. He set the water a little warmer and quickly washed off. Getting out, he pulled a towel off the rack and dried himself. Having showered, he felt more in control of himself. At least, in enough control to focus on what was important, namely finding a way to get Ziggy to allow them back into the complex.

Going to the desk, he turned on the computer and let it boot as he quickly dressed in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, leaving his feet bare. He wasn't planning on going anywhere and the necessity of getting into Ziggy's programming was calling him.

He sat down at the computer again, working on the coding and trying to determine the best way to fix his out of control brainchild. Al returned to the room about an hour later.

"Sam…you should have stayed! After you left the blonde in the bikini…her name is Gloria, imagine that…and another beautiful woman, a redhead named Mary Lou, came over to talk. They asked me to help them put lotion on their backs. Being the helpful guy I am, I agreed. They're stewardesses, Sam, honest to God stewardesses on a layover!"

Sam looked up from the computer. "You need to have a warning label attached to you," he stated dryly.

Al glared at him. "Funny, Sam."

Sam's countenance suddenly took on an annoyed look. "Is that all you think about, Al? 'Cause that's all I hear you talk about so that must be all you think about."

Al was indignant. "I think about other things."

"Name two."

"Cigars and food."

"What about something more substantial like science?"

He knew he'd be baiting Sam, but he had to do it. The Kid just provided too many openings. "Why would I waste my talents on something as dull as that?"

Sam's face took on a quizzical look, "Why did we become partners again?"

"'Cause I can get the money you need for that inspired project of yours."

"Oh ,yeah… I knew there had to be some logical reason." He started turning back to the computer screen.

Al bounced on his feet slightly as if he had something to tell Sam. "And speaking of money, I need to go get a little now."

Sam glanced at him from the side of his eye. "How you are you going to do that? Planning on turning into a gigolo?"

"Not a bad idea… but it's faster to use the ATM."

"You're incorrigible," the younger man said shaking his head.

"Yeah, you ought to try it sometime," Al quipped back. He paused for a moment and then added, "Now… Sam… you want one of these?"

Sam looked up. "What?"

Al flashed two key cards. "I know for a fact that Mary Lou grew up on a farm and she has the nicest pair of …"

Sam's face scrunched, "Al!!!!!!!"

Sam recognized the innocent look that Calavicci used from time to time. When he did, the man looked like one of those Italian Angels found on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. "What? I was just going to say…ummm…" His countenance dropped and he shrugged. "…well…okay, Sam, you caught me this time. I can't think of anything that would be nice on a farm, much less a pair of them, except for Mary Lou's…"

Sam put his hand up, indicating he didn't want to hear anymore. "Al!!!!! Just stop it. Now! I don't want one of the key cards and shame on you for taking them from those girls. You don't even know them. It would be wrong."

"Like in that song you keep playing ad nauseum at the project…'To right the unrightable wrong…To love pure and chaste from a farm….'"

"That's afar…not a farm!" Sam stated with a sarcastic half grin, crows feet evident.

"Afar, a farm... Beckett, for you it's all the same," Al stated, his hand waving the statement off. "I just thought you'd like to hold onto something other than a lamp! Now if you'll excuse me, Mary Lou is waiting for one of us in her hayloft."

"Al, this is the Albuquerque Hilton. There are no haylofts around here."

"You call them what you want. I'll just use my own fertile imagination." He smiled and left the room.

As Al sauntered out of the room, Sam said under his breath, "More like an imagination of natural fertilizer!"

_Thursday, August 26, 1993_

_6:00 p.m._

Al stepped out of the hotel room and started towards the ATM to fill his wallet. He didn't lie to Sam when he said he was going to be seeing both of the stewardesses and that Mary Lou was interested in the farm boy from Indiana. He had just hoped that somewhere inside that Boy Scout there was still some interest in the opposite sex. "Apparently not," Al murmured as he put the money in his wallet and headed back to the room.

Not for the first time he thought with anger about the woman who had broken Sam's heart. Al knew that Sam wasn't the type to give his adoration easily. He was somewhat shy around women although Al knew he was a babe magnet. Women seem to be drawn easily to the young scientist. Sam could likely write up the specifications of a perfect woman, and it would be a piece of cake to find one that fit. Not that Sam would ever do that.

However, the woman he'd been willing to give his soul to had too many demons of her own. On the day that was supposed to be Sam's happiest, she'd taken that joy and ground it into the sandy soil of Taos. Sam had at first been sure that Donna's car had broken down or that some other silly thing had occurred. But as the minutes rolled by, he came to the realization that she wasn't coming to join him at the altar.

Al had watched his friend's eyes as that knowledge slowly seeped into their depths. Sam had smiled briefly at the small gathering of friends and family that had come to wish the soon to be new couple their best. With a simple "I'm sorry, but I guess there won't be a wedding today," he'd turned and walked out the small side door. Al had followed him out and watched him standing next to the side of the adobe church, his body language indicating a deep, internal struggle.

Al had wanted to take away the pain he knew filled the younger man as he fought to maintain his dignity. He walked up and put his hand on his shoulder and Sam had turned to him, silent tears tracking down his face.

"Oh, Sammy!"

"Why, Al? What did I do or was it something I didn't do?" The anguish on the man's face had been deep.

"It wasn't you, Sam," Al had tried to tell him. The physicist didn't believe him that day nor for any of the other times when circumstances would turn his thoughts towards that day. Al knew that Sam had pushed that part of himself deep and instead had turned to his project, giving his all towards completing the dream he now gave his soul to instead.

When Al returned to the room, Sam was still working. He went in and cleaned up, dressing for nice evening out.

"You sure you don't want to come, Sam? The girls will be disappointed."

Sam tossed over his shoulder, "No, Al. You have a good time. I'm going to keep working."

Al nodded. He'd tried. He headed to the next floor up where the girl's rooms were located.

Going to the first door, he looked at the card key in his hand and decided that a key wasn't an invitation to just go walking into someone's hotel room. Knocking on the door, he waited patiently for the response.

Gloria came to the door. "Hi, Al. Where's your friend, Sam?"

"Um. Well, he had a bit of a headache." Al figured that this was somewhat true. Ziggy was certainly giving Sam a headache. "I'm afraid he won't able to make it," Al continued smoothly, reaching to take her hand. "But I don't think it's fair that you ladies should have your evening ruined by an unfortunate happenstance."

"What do you mean?"

"How about you, Mary Lou and I go down to the restaurant and have a lovely dinner. Just the three of us."

"Okay... let me give her a call." The blonde bombshell walked over to the phone and dialed her friend's room.

Mary Lou agreed, although she was disappointed to hear about Sam's headache. She'd really been hoping to meet him.

Al waited patiently while Mary Lou and Gloria got themselves ready for their evening with their newest friend. The three headed down to the restaurant.

With a finesse that fit the Admiral's experience, Al was able to procure a table at a prime location, just close enough to the dance floor to enjoy it but far away enough to be able to hear each other without the musician's playing to interfere with their conversation.

Over the next three hours the three thoroughly enjoying their meal. Al was on top of his game, regaling the two beauties with his tales of his vast experiences in the Navy. Al took one and then the other up to the dance floor and both were thrilled with his grace and style. They both commented on the fact that Al definitely knew how to show a lady a good time.

Afterwards, Gloria and Al walked Marylou back to her room. Al gave her a kiss on the cheek and again apologized for Sam's absence. Mary Lou indicated she'd had a wonderful time and thanked Al. Gloria and he headed to her room. He was about to say his goodnight to her as well when she told him their evening wasn't over yet.

"It isn't?" Al questioned with a slight smile.

She shook her head coyly and grabbed his tie, pulling him into her room. "If you were that good on the dance floor, I want to see how you are in other pursuits. I was very impressed by the salute."

"You saw me, huh?" Al questioned with a grin, letting himself be led into the room.

"I saw you in the mirror they had up to help people see around the corners at the pool. That was so cute. No one has ever done that before."

"That's a shame," he told her, kicking the door closed. "I always thought that a fine woman deserves the respect and attention due to her."

Gloria smiled and sidled up to Al, her lips making no mistake as to what she wanted.

"Oh, boy!" Al commented, putting his arms around Gloria to give her a kiss he knew she'd never forget. "Time to fly the friendly skies!"

Gloria smiled, "And if you're a good boy I'll give you a set of wings!"

"Oh, I'm a _very_ good boy," Al told her, kissing her and then slowly undressing her.

They spent the next few hours exploring each other's airspace, finally falling asleep after midnight. Gloria and Mary Lou had an early flight so Gloria left him at five a.m. telling him to take his time.

It was 8 am when he finally headed back to his and Sam's room. He walked into the room to find Sam at the desk. It looked as if Sam hadn't bothered to change into anything else after Al had left the night before. Al figured he'd been up all night.

"Typical," he murmured with disappointment.

Going over to the computer, he covered the screen with his hand. "Did you sleep?"

"Um... What? What time is it?" Sam suddenly realized that his lower back was hurting and his neck felt like there were kinks in it everywhere. He rubbed at his neck.

"Eight in the morning," Al told him. "And if you have to ask, you obviously didn't sleep a wink. Go to bed."

Sam stretched and even Al could hear the cracking in his neck and shoulders.

"Ummm...I'm not tired. Where were you anyways?"

"And I'm the Sheik of Arabia. And I told you where I was. I was entertaining a couple of lovelies who wanted to know where you were.

"Why would they want to know that?" Sam knew of course what Al was referring to but he wasn't going to give him the pleasure of knowing it. He just looked at Al with what he knew was his own 'innocent' look. It often had worked with his father, but never with his mother.

Al ignored the jab. "Personally, having Gloria was glorious and Mary Lou gave me a reason to want to become a farmer. Yumola! Let me tell you, steak sauce _never_ looked or tasted so good!"

"Yeah, Al. I'm sure you had fun." He reached around again and rubbed at his lower back, a yawn working its way to his mouth.

Al grabbed his arm and forcibly raised him to his feet. "Bedtime. Now. Off with the sweats and into your pajamas."

Another yawn exited Sam mouth. "Yeah... I guess I must be a little tired. A nap might be good to get. But I'm already dressed for bed," he said referring to the sweats and MIT T-shirt that had seen its better days. He crawled into bed. Closing his eyes, he fell to sleep quickly.

Al gave a little smirk at the physicist before finding a shower and a change of clothing for himself before heading down to breakfast. Before leaving the room, he looked at Sam and was glad to see him peacefully sleeping. He figured he would probably sleep until noon.

_Friday, August 27, 1993_

_9:00 a.m._

Going down to the breakfast buffet, Al surveyed the choices and decided on a small waffle and a cup of juice. He'd had plenty of coffee the other day and the night with Gloria and Mary Lou had been relaxing enough that he didn't feet the need to have any more caffeine to get him going.

Finding a seat, he was halfway through his waffle when a figure stood over him. Turning his head, he raised an eyebrow at the man who seemed intent on speaking to him.

"Can I help you with something?"

"You're Al Calavicci, aren't you?"

"Depends on whether or not you're a lawyer," Al told him with a glint in his eye.

The man looked at him strangely, "Uh... no. I used to work in Houston at NASA. I was working in mission control during your Apollo Mission."

Al raised his eyebrows. "Really? I thought you might be one of my ex-wives lawyers." He gestured to the empty seat on the other side of the table. "Have a seat. What was your name again?"

"Michael Kiray."

Al smiled slightly. "You're kidding! Little Mikey?"

The man blushed. "You knew me right after I'd gotten out of college. Things have changed a bit since then. I go by Mike now."

Al huffed a slight laugh. "Small world. What are you doing in New Mexico?" Al was really happy to see Mike. He pushed the remains of his waffle away but accepted the offer of more juice when the waitress came by.

"I'm working at the Very Large Array now, but I'm in Albuquerque to meet with the Science Club at University of New Mexico. I'm the first speaker for the school year."

Al leaned slightly to the side, listening intensely to his former colleagues words. "What are you lecturing on?"

"I'm explaining the use of radio astronomy to look into the new star nurseries, learn more about how stars are born."

"Sounds very similar to a project I'd been on a while back," Al commented. "But that's the past. I don't explore the stars anymore. At least, not professionally."

"So what are you doing now?"

Al gave him a little smile. "Oh, retired. On a little side vacation right now," he lied easily. He couldn't exactly tell Mike that he was now part of a top secret project whose computer just kicked his creators out after an argument.

"You interested in getting back to work? I know we're looking into some new projects and we could certainly use someone of your caliber."

Al hesitated for a moment. "Thanks but I have something already lined up out at Holloman Air Force Base." He took a sip of his juice. "So, married? Kids?"

"Yes. I've been married ten years now. We have a boy and a girl. David and Kim. They are six and four."

Al's smile widened at the news of his ex-colleague's children. If there was one thing Al had a soft spot for, it was children. "I bet their regular little lovable terrors."

"Oh, yeah. They keep me and their mother very busy. Janet decided to be a stay at home mom. We have a house in Socorro."

"Nice town," Al commented. "Thinking of buying either in Socorro or in Taos."

"Both of them are a little far from HAFB."

"Yeah, well, it's always nice to have a home away from home," Al said with ease.

"I guess you can do that when you're retired. One mortgage is all we can handle right now."

"Hey, you have to worry about your kids' futures so I don't blame you one bit."

Mike nodded. "Well, I need to be going. Have to be to the school by 10 am and its 9:30 now."

Al stood and extended his hand. "It's great to see you again, Mike. You take care of your family."

Mike took his hand and shook it. "Thanks. I hope your work at HAFB goes well." Mike reached into his pocket. "But just in case, here's my card."

Al accepted the card and looked at it. For a split second, he was tempted to accept the job offer, a little spiteful voice reminding him of how uncooperative his current partner was when it came to the basics. Ignoring that voice, he tucked the card into his inside jacket pocket. "Thanks. I'll keep it in mind."

Mike nodded and walked out of the restaurant.

Mikey wasn't a new wet behind the ears engineer anymore, just as Al wasn't an astronaut. Still the chance to work in that field again was sorely tempting. Not that he questioned whether Sam would achieve his dream. But the dream was now looking a little tarnished with the growing rift between them. Maybe someday he'd decide that he didn't want to be part of the dream anymore. Or perhaps Mike wouldn't want to work at the VLA anymore. Either way, he was going to hang onto the card... just in case.

Al sat back down and thought seriously about the conversation he'd just had and about the years in NASA with "Little Mikey". He remembered Mike as being a guy who had a strong head on his shoulders. He'd been given the nickname mostly due to his youthful attitude. Some had even compared his eagerness to that of a little brother trying to gain favor from his older brother.

Al had seen that same type of eagerness in Sam, especially back when he'd first joined StarBright. He knew that StarBright was the first real job that Sam had had outside of school. He suddenly wondered now if Sam really didn't understand that the schedule could not be used to create requisitions. It would be hard to believe that a man with Sam's intelligence wouldn't understand that, but Al knew from experience that it was often the case that Sam took for granted that things would be available for him without much input.

Still, these were special cables. Sam had designed them himself and had changed the specifications at least half a dozen times since he'd first indicated that he would need them. Al had asked Sam what the final specifications would be and his friend had told him not to worry about it; he'd get that information to Al. Al had taken this as an assurance that Sam would get back to him in enough time. Obviously he was wrong and, with the product requiring a special build, there was no way to get the cables any faster. It wasn't as if he could go pick these cables up at the local hardware store. As it was, he'd used up some of the slack time that had been built into the schedule to address any unexpected delays. Sam couldn't make a habit of this behavior or at some point, push would come to shove and Al wasn't sure how Sam would handle that type of pressure from the committee.

Al considered the situation further. Sam was forty years old now. He'd just had his birthday three weeks before. One would think a man would have learned something this basic by that point in his life, especially having been on a previous government project.

He got up and headed toward the elevators. As he passed the hotel lounge, he heard the sounds of a game on the bars TV. He noticed that it was a San Diego Padres baseball game and decided to watch it. After all, Sam was likely to still sleep at least another two hours.

_Friday, August 27, 1993_

_11:30 a.m._

Sam's eyes fluttered open and he noticed the digital clock on the nightstand indicated 11:30 a.m. As least he figured it was a.m. since the room was bathed in light. He stretched and got up, heading to the shower.

Afterwards, he was toweling off, and walked over to the dresser to obtain his clothing for the day. There were two sheets of paper on the dresser. One was from Gloria and the other from Mary Lou. Both had their respective phone numbers and the sentiment on both expressed their enjoyment of the previous night's activities. He wondered if he'd be hearing from Al the play by play later. He certainly hoped not. The last thing he needed was to hear Al kiss and whatever and tell about him spending the night with two women.

Sam opened the drawer, pulling out a clean pair of boxers which he slipped on before pulling on a pair of blue jeans. He took a light blue button down shirt out and put it on, followed by his belt, socks, and boots. He headed out the door, deciding that he could really go for a sandwich at the hotel restaurant. While the room service the night before had been good, it was nice to get out of the room.

Sam exited the elevator and noted the ATM in the lobby. He went over and obtained some cash to replenish the money that had been stolen during the mugging. He was counting the money as he started towards the restaurant. As he passed the lounge, he heard the sound of cheering coming from the TV set. He looked in and saw Al perched on a barstool, a drink in front of him. "You just couldn't stay away from it," Sam growled under his voice. He marched into the bar and up to Al, snatching the drink away from Al as the latter was reaching for it. He sniffed the contents of the crystal rock glass. Immediately his face flushed with embarrassment. The contents smelled oddly like ginger ale.

Al's face was livid. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Beckett?"

Sam was obviously uncomfortable, his eyes contrite. "I… umm…"

Al got off the bar stool and took a threatening step towards Sam. "You don't trust me? I've been sober for eleven years."

Sam saw the look on Al's face, knowing he deserved the anger being aimed at him. He put his hands up, finger splayed. "I know…I don't understand why I thought…"

Suddenly, Al pulled back and threw a punch at Sam, connecting hard with the younger man's eye. Sam fell back, grabbing for a stool to keep his balance. It didn't work and the stools landed on top of him. The last thing Sam saw was Al giving him a glare before turning and heading out of the bar.

_Friday, August 27, 1993_

_12:15 p.m._

Al marched back to the elevator, pushing the button for the floor their room was on. Reaching his destination, Al entered the room and pulled down his suitcase. He was in full tantrum when Sam entered the room three minutes later, slamming drawers and cursing in loud Italian.

Sam was shocked by what he was seeing. He thought he'd seen Al at his worst when he'd stopped him from destroying the vending machine. This was much worse. Talking loud enough to get Al's attention, Sam started apologizing. "Al, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done what I did. I know you've been sober since the cabin."

Al continued to pack, throwing things into his suitcase, not willing to even give Sam a glance. "Like hell you're sorry." His voice was venomous.

Sam was at a loss. He knew he was in the wrong and didn't know how to set things right. "Really, Al, I am. I don't know what I can say to make you believe me. That was about the stupidest thing I've ever done."

Al's voice got hotter and louder. "You're right, Sam. That was stupid. And cruel. And completely uncalled for."

Sam hung his head. "I know. You're right. I'm sorry, Al. I'm really sorry."

With his voice almost at full blast, Al answered, "You can say it forever, but it still doesn't change what you did. I've had it. I had it with having to lead you by the hand through this project when you are quite capable of doing it on your own, only to have my professionalism called into question among other things."

A knock on the door surprised both of them. Sam went to the door and found the hotel manager and the head of security standing on the other side.

"We've had several complaints about your actions of the last half hour. We're going to have to ask you to leave."

Al piped up, "Not a problem, I was leaving anyway." He quickly snapped his suitcase closed and pushed through the hotel staff. Sam looked in Al's direction and back into the room seeing there was no way to pack up his belongings if he was going to go after Al.

He pulled out his wallet and took out his business card and a credit card. "I'm really sorry, sirs. You got to believe me when I say this isn't our typical behavior." He handed the manager the two items he'd pulled from the wallet. "I'll pay whatever it takes to have my belongings shipped back to this address. Please don't use the credit card on file. Use this one for the shipping and for the room. You can send the credit card back to the same place. Again, I apologize for this fiasco." He grabbed the computer bag and one other that was still basically packed, rushing out the door to follow Al to the surprise of the hotel staff. He noted that the elevators were slow in arriving, and headed down the stairs instead.

_Friday, August 27, 1993_

_12:30 p.m._

Sam rushed out the door breathing heavily from his sprint down the stairs, noticing that the bellman was hailing a cab for Al.

"Al, please. Let's just talk. I promise if you still want to leave afterwards, I'll take you anywhere you want to go. Please."

Al refused to look at Sam. He knew what he'd see if he gave in. His curiosity got the better of him, however, and he confirmed what he feared. Sam's countenance had taken on that puppy-dog look that the man could pull off better than any living soul he knew. He knew at that moment he would give in to Sam's request.

"Ah, Dammit! Fine!"

Sam indicated to the valet parking attendant the name their car was under. The attendant brought the car quickly. Both men threw their luggage into the backseat. Sam got behind the wheel and Al reluctantly took the passenger seat beside him.

Sam headed to a little coffee shop he knew close to the University of New Mexico. He figured that would be a good place to try to fix the mess he knew he had created. The drive over was loudly silent.

Entering the establishment, Sam asked for a table where they could talk. The waitress showed them to a table close to the back with no other patrons around them. At the table, Sam ordered two ice teas. The waitress nodded and headed away to get their drinks.

After the waitress left, Sam opened and closed his mouth several times, no words coming out. Al decided that he wasn't going to wait around for Sam to say something. "This was a waste of my time." He started to get up and walk away.

Sam reached out and grabbed Al by the arm. His eyes begged as he pleaded "Wait. I just don't want to say the wrong thing. I've already hurt you too much today. Not exactly my finest hour."

"You can say that again," Al berated, looking down at Sam's restraining hand.

"If I thought it would help, I say it 1000 times."

Al sighed and then turned back to the table, taking the seat across from Sam again. "I'm listening."

"I know that I've been difficult the last few days…"

Al blew out a breath, "Days, hell, you've been difficult for years."

"Okay," Sam acquiesced.

"Is that all you're going to say?" Al's statement would have caused water to freeze.

Sam's voice took on a pleading quality. "What can I say, Al? I know that what I did wasn't right. You deserve better from me."

The waitress came back at that moment, teas in hand. She asked if she could get either of them anything else and Sam shook his head. She nodded and left, leaving the men to continue their discussion.

During this interchange, Al didn't say anything, simply glaring at Sam.

Sam broke the uncomfortable silence. "Would it help if I let you hit me again?"

Al looked at Sam, and noticed the slowly darkening eye that was turning into quite a shiner. With the scratches from the road also still clear on Sam's face, the idea of hitting him again was almost comical. He figured that Sam's being mugged and punched in less then 24 hours in addition to having his computer go south on him might just be punishment enough. He realized suddenly that Sam had only come out of the hotel with two pieces of luggage, one of which he recognized as the computer bag and the other wasn't his clothes. He wondered what the hotel staff thought of the younger man running after him following such a fight. He started laughing.

Sam was confused. "What's so funny?"

"You, Sam. The hotel staff probably thinks you're gay now."

Sam was shocked, his eyes got big. "Oh, God, you're probably right."

"If it's any consolation, they probably think I'm gay too. It's all probably been written of as a lover's spat." Suddenly Al's face dropped. "Wait a second… that means they think I'M gay! They think I'm GAY! Dammit, Beckett. How could you do this to me? I have a reputation to maintain, and it has nothing to do with guys."

Sam was speechless. Then he asked, calmly, "So you sure you don't want to hit me?"

Al considered for a moment but then broke into a bout of laughter. Catching his breath, "No, Sam. I don't want to hit you. But if you ever pull something like that again, don't be surprised if I leave and don't come back."

Sam nodded. He took a sip from his tea. He still felt he was treading over unstable ground. "So now that we can't go back to the hotel, what do you want to do?"

Al shrugged. "I have no idea."

"How about Taos? I don't think I want to stay in Albuquerque after what happened today"

"Me either."

"I know a nice place there, the El Pueblo Lodge. It's an older place but its close enough to walk to the Plaza and the rooms are very large. I think you'd like it."

"Okay, Sam. But from now on, we're getting separate rooms. I don't even want an accidental repeat of today."

"Agreed."

Al looked to Sam, "Okay, so who's driving?"


	4. Chapter 4

**THE OTHER SIDE OF LIFE**

**CHAPTER FOUR**

_Friday, August 27, 1993_

_1:15 p.m_

Al decided to take the wheel of the car. He knew that Sam was likely to want to work on his laptop again. Besides, driving was relaxing for him.

Sam asked Al to first head over to the mall on Indian School Road. He had to pick up some clothes. When they arrived, Sam went into the Penney's store and obtained four pairs of jeans, two blue, two black, a nice pair of Docker's, four button down shirts, each exactly the same but in shades of blue, green, brown, and white, and a couple of packages of boxers and socks. He also picked up a light summer weight cotton sweater in cream.

Al looked at Sam's choice of clothing and commented, "Gawd, Beckett, you've got to have the most boring taste in clothing of anyone I've ever met. We need to get you some color." Al started towards the exit door from Penney's, knowing Sam would follow. He continued on, adding, "There are some great shops in the Plaza. We should get your replacement luggage there."

"Al, these are fine. I don't need anything else."

"Sure, you do," Al insisted. "Maybe a jacket to brighten up those boring shirts."

"I'll pick one up in Taos if I need one. And I can get a new suitcase in Penny's. Just let me finish my shopping here."

"Like I said... boring."

Sam gave Al an annoyed look. "Listen...I don't say anything about your clothes..." He paused a beat, "...at least not much and only when your choices are a little over the top."

"My clothes are _never_ over the top," Al said, seemingly offended.

"Well, you always _match_," the physicist conceded, "But flashy doesn't even come close to describing them. I prefer a more laid back look.

"If you get any more laid back, you'll be six feet under."

With a glaring grin, Sam answered, "Funny. Now let me go get a couple of bags for my clothes in the luggage department. I can get a pair of running shoes at a specialty store."

"Well, at least you do have _some_ taste," Al commented, turning from his original intention and following Sam to the luggage department. After Sam had bought what were, in Al's opinion, the most boring purchases possible, they left the department store.

After leaving Penny's, they went to Runner's World to get a pair of shoes. Sam finished getting his clothing and toiletries needs met and then indicated that they should head towards Taos as it would be a 2 1/2 hour drive.

Al indicated it would be longer. He was planning on taking the high road to Taos to try out how the car performed on the mountain roads.

"You know I hate those roads." It was said as a statement and not a question.

"You can sleep through it if you want. But it's such a great drive."

"You think I can sleep when you're taking curves like that? You'll probably make me toss my cookies instead."

"Oh, come on. I'm a great driver." Al paused a moment and then added,"And you do owe me, Beckett."

Sam dryly answered, "I think I'd rather have you punch out my other eye." Seeing Al preparing to say something back, Sam gave in, splaying his hands. "Okay, you win."

Al grinned at the victory. "Trust me. You won't even notice the curves."

Sam just nodded with an acceptance of the inevitable. "Whatever."

As they went into the mountain roads, Al took a glance towards Sam and smiled, seeing that his prediction was correct. Sam's head rested against the window as Al turned the corners, enjoying how the car hugged the road.

The feel of the road under the tires and the way the car handled the turns was actually impressing Al. Although he missed the sleekness of his Ferrari, he was starting to wonder how this car handled high speeds.

He pulled up to the El Pueblo Lodge. Parking the car under the overhand outside the office, Al nudged Sam. "Hey, Pal, we're here."

Sam yawned and he woke up. Scrubbing his eyes he asked, "Where?"

"In Taos at the El Pueblo Lodge."

"Already? How fast were you driving?"

Al rolled his eyes. He wondered why Beckett was always assuming things like that about him. "Sam, look at your watch. It took us three hours. I wasn't going that fast. Just fast enough to check out how the car handled."

Sam thought that sounded reasonable. He knew that Al liked to drive. There were occasions when Sam enjoyed driving too. He recalled driving in Germany on the Autobahn years before when he'd been to Berlin to present a paper. He'd found the high performance BMW that he rented a blast to handle on the road. Still, most times, Sam was more of Jeep guy. Off roading was just more fun. "And?" he asked, showing interest.

"We'll, it's not the Ferrari but it's not bad. I could actually get use to a car like this."

Sam nodded. Both he and Al got out and walked to the small lobby area. Going to the desk, Sam asked the Hispanic woman behind the counter, "Do you have two rooms available?"

The woman smiled and checked her books. "I have two rooms across the parking lot."

"Okay, we'll take them." Sam filled out the offered information card. He took out his wallet to retrieve his credit card. "Oh, damn."

"What?" asked Al.

"I left my credit card with the Manager at the Hilton."

Al looked at him as if he'd grown a second head. "What did you do that for?"

Looking at the woman across the counter, Sam didn't really want to say it was to cover his running out on the room. "I'll tell you later."

"Fine." Al pulled out his credit card and handed it to the woman. She ran the card through and handed it back to Al. Once the transactions were taken care of, Al indicated he'd drive the car around. Sam said he'd walk to the room.

Al pulled up in front of the long porch that ran in front of the doors to the rooms. He noticed the older painted metal chairs and tables sitting on the porch. Like a piece of Americana. Sam had just crossed the parking lot himself. "So, how'd you learn about this place?"

"Oh, Donna and I came up several times." He turned around and pointed across the pool to a small building. "You see that little building? It has three rooms in it, two small ones in the front and one large in the back. Donna and I took the smaller room on the left. It has a Kiva fireplace in it. It can be quite romantic.

Al looked over at the little casita that Sam was pointing too. "I would imagine."

Sam shrugged before turning to pull his new luggage out of the car. "Anyways, we came up a few times. I haven't been back since she left me."

Al's eyes narrowed a bit. Knowing that the Kid's heart was still hurting, he asked, "Is this going to cause any problems with memories?"

Sam shook his head and started towards the covered walkway. He paused and answered, "I don't think so. I mean, I'm not staying in the same room or anything."

Al didn't say anything. He truly hoped that Sam was right. Somehow, though, he questioned Sam logic in choosing a place he'd stayed at when Donna and he were still together. He pulled his luggage out of the car and Sam watched as Al walked to his door. He was at the end and Al was in the next room over. This was an older hotel and the rooms did not adjoin.

Going to his room, Al unlocked the door and opened it. Immediately, his mouth dropped. The room was huge! "You sure this isn't the honeymoon suite?" he shouted the question to his friend still waiting outside his room, almost as if he wanted to see Al's reaction.

Al could hear the smile in Sam's voice as he called from the covered walkway. "Um... no, Al. That's just the way this place is. I don't think there's a small room here. But some rooms are bigger than others."

If anything, Al's grin got bigger. "Now this is my idea of a hotel room." He dropped his bags on the bed and started to unpack, careful to make sure not a wrinkle was in any of his outfits. He heard Sam walk away towards his own room.

Sam entered his room and started putting his new clothes away, hanging up the shirts neatly. He walked over to Al's room a few minutes later. "Al...I'm going to have to get another pair of swim trunks. I left everything at the Hilton."

At the thought of shopping, Al seemed to perk up even more. "Great! We'll go to the Plaza and shop."

"I'm okay with going to the Plaza, but I don't think there'll be any swim trunks there. Taos Plaza doesn't have those types of stores. Mostly Indian art, tourist stuff, and some southwestern style clothes."

"Then we can get you a leather jacket. You know, with the Western fringes on it…"

Sam looked uncomfortable. "I don't think I'd do fringe well. And all I really need are swim trunks."

"You can always go skinny-dipping," Al taunted with a smile.

"Sam turned bright red. "No way. First off, this is a family place. And second, I just...well...that isn't..."

Al chuckled. Sometimes the kid was just too easy. He continued to rib him. "You can sneak into the pool after hours with some cute Chiquita and show her your... swimming prowess."

Sam's face suddenly got a lost look and his voice was suddenly barely above a whisper. "Um... no, Al." He turned and headed back to his room. He'd left his door open when he'd come out to talk to his friend. Now he walked in and closed the door.

_Why did Al have to remind me of Donna's and my late night swim the last time we were here?_

Sam and Donna had been engaged and they were in Taos making arrangements for their wedding the following month. June 5th was the day Donna had chosen, saying she always wanted to be a June bride with orange blossoms. They'd made love that night in May and afterwards the cool desert night air had beckoned them to the pool, long after the closing hours. The pool was heated and still held onto its warmth. Donna had looked so beautiful in the moonlight; Sam felt he'd never be happier.

He frowned. A month later, Donna had left him at the altar. He'd been devastated. Al had done his best to help Sam though the aftermath, taking him out to a local bar he knew. Sam had a couple of drinks and then had simply left without telling anyone where he'd gone. That was six years ago. She'd never talked to him since then and it still hurt. The letter he received with her engagement ring had said she couldn't commit to him and doubted she could commit to anyone.

Al frowned at Sam's reaction. He'd expected Sam to lay into him about his innuendo but the scientist was unusually quiet. He followed him out of his room and towards Sam's. "Hey," he called out. Seeing Sam go into his room without even looking back, Al sighed. "Hope it wasn't something I said," he murmured, going back to his room. He had to finish unpacking.

Al finished putting everything away and left the hotel room, making sure that the door was locked behind him. Going over to Sam's room, he knocked on the door. It had been a good half an hour, plenty of time for Sam to unpack, Al thought.

"Go away."

Al frowned with concern. "Sam..." he started, hearing the tone of his friend's voice.

"Just leave me alone."

Al took a deep breath and exhaled, reaching for the handle. To his surprise, the door knob twisted in his grip, allowing him to open the door. Walking slowly into the room, he looked at his friend, in a chair at the room's southwest style table, his back to the door. "Sam, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing is wrong." Sam seemed totally lost in thought. As if suddenly realizing Al was no longer on the other side of the door, he asked "How did you get in?"

"You didn't close the door all the way," Al lied. He didn't know why he didn't tell him the truth. The door was completely closed when he had tried the handle. The lock apparently wasn't working.

Sam tilted his head curiously but accepted Al's answer. He looked down at his hands before saying, "Why don't you just go do something at the Plaza like you wanted. I'll just stay here." He still seemed to be in another world.

Al sighed, shaking his head. "I've got a better idea. How about we go to the Plaza together, get something to eat, and then find a place where we can get you those swim trunks you need." Not getting a reaction, Al took a step towards him. "Look I obviously said something that bothers you and I'm sorry."

Sam looked up at Al, his eyes somewhat weepy, "It's not you, Al. You just said something that reminded me of her. I still wish I knew what I did to push her away. Maybe I didn't love her enough. I thought I did, but maybe..."

If anything, Al felt worse from Sam's admission and from the guilt he was laying upon himself. Al just didn't understand how Sam could continually blame himself for something Donna did.

"Hey, it wasn't you, Sam," Al told him plainly. "She's the one that turned down a great guy like you."

Sam shook his head. "I know you're just trying to make me feel better, but I know there has to be a reason, Al. Donna wouldn't just leave if there wasn't a reason. She told me that she couldn't commit but…"

"Sam, you weren't the reason. You didn't do anything to push her away. And if you didn't love her enough, you wouldn't be still hurting." He took a breath. "Let's just get away from this place for a few hours. Get that woman off your mind."

Sam nodded. He got up from the chair at the table. "Okay." He continued to be quieter then usual.

Al gestured with his head. "Good. Now I can see how you look in leather fringes."

Sam threw Al a sideways glance. "I told you I don't do fringe."

"Aw, come on, Sam!" Al teased, walking out of the room. "I bet deep down inside, there's a cowboy yearning to break free. Get alon', l'il doogie!"

Al started to go to the car and Sam shook his head. "I want to walk. And cool it about the jacket. If I see something I like, I'll get it. But I can guarantee, it won't have fringe."

"Geometric shapes in multiple colors perhaps?" Al suggested as they started to walk towards the Plaza. Al snapped his fingers. "Beltbuckles as accents!"

Sam looked at Al, a pained look on his face, "No! How about never? Is never good for you?"

"Braided leather?" he tried one more time

The younger man stopped and turned suddenly. "Listen. You say one more thing about a jacket and I'm gonna..." He trailed off, leaving the rest of the threat unspoken.

"Who's saying anything about a jacket?" Al taunted. "I'm referring to the shirt I'm going to make you buy."

Sam's eyes narrowed at Al. "You want me to go to the Plaza and not back to the room?"

Al put his hands up with his fingers splayed showing he would not continue. "Okay, okay. Point taken. I'll just shut up and walk. You won't hear a peep out of me."

"Good." Sam kept walking.

Al noticed that instead of his joking loosening Sam up, the man's shoulders were tight. He could barely keep up with the younger man's strides. By the time they got to the Plaza, Al was more than a little winded, even though he prided himself in keeping in shape. "Hey, slow down, will you? I'm not a marathon runner, you know."

Sam turned around as if just noticing that Al was breathing harder then usual. The faster walk had burned off some of his frustration with Al. "Um, okay. Sorry, Al. Hey... you want to get something to eat at Olgavie's?" Sam suddenly realized he hadn't had anything to eat and his stomach was growling, not to mention the headache that was starting to hit him yet again.

Al huffed a brief laugh. First, Sam hadn't sounded in the least bit truly apologetic and now he wanted to eat?

"What?" Sam seemed to detect a bit of anger on Al's part.

Al shook his head. "Nothing. Let's get something to eat. My stomach is protesting violently that it wants something in it and is about to revolt."

Sam nodded, still unsure if Al was upset or not. They headed up the stairs to the restaurant, stopping at the desk. A young lady walked up and Sam asked for a seat on the patio. He always liked watching people on the Plaza.

The moment the bread was set on the table, Al dug into it, putting on a layer of butter before biting into it almost ravenously. Sam wasn't quite as fast, but he also grabbed a slice of bread and did the same thing. The waitress just watched the two men attack the bread basket and raised an eyebrow. Sam gave her one of his silly grins and shrugged. He ordered a Corona and waited for Al to make his drink selection

"Just water," Al told the waitress.

The waitress nodded and headed off to get their drinks. "So... what do you want to buy here?" Al asked, digging into his second piece of bread in less than two minutes.

"I was thinking of a steak. I'm really hungry. I...um...haven't eaten anything today." Sam looked uncomfortable as he recalled the reason he hadn't eaten. His actions today still bothered him. He didn't understand why he'd reacted the way he did with Al earlier. He knew for a fact that Al didn't drink anymore, or at least very little; he did have the occasional wine with his dinner. Why he would think that Al was drinking at a bar? Well, it just didn't make sense.

Al raised an eyebrow. "Why does that sound familiar?" he said with a smile. "I was actually referring to the shopping part of this venture. As for the meal, it's on me. Whatever you want, I'm buying. And I won't take no for an answer."

"Well, you might have to do a lot of that, at least 'til I get to a bank. I'll pay you back, of course. And I told you...all I need are some swim trunks."

"Oh, I'm sure we'll find something else you want while we're here," Al told him. Seeing the look on Sam's face, he continued. "At least buy yourself a treat for a change instead of necessities all the time."

Sam sighed. "Why? I mean...it's not like I'll really use anything. I'm at the project most of the time, and when I'm not, I'm just taking care of the mundane things I have to do."

"That's just it," Al pointed out. "You shouldn't be at the project as much as you are. The rest of the world spends most of their time out in the world in some way. At home, watching a ball game. Inviting friends over... And you do use things. You know, I bet if you got a good denim shirt with a little design in it, the girls would go ga-ga over you even more than they already do."

"I don't need girls going ga-ga, Al."

Al rolled his eyes. "Face it, Beckett. They already do."

Sam pushed out a breath. "Yeah... right."

Al just grinned slightly as the waitress returned with their drink orders. "Hey, gorgeous. I'll have an 8 ounce filet, medium well, mashed potatoes and broccoli... and your phone number."

She blushed. "Um... you're a little too old for me, Pops, but you're cute anyways. What can I get you two to eat?"

_Old?_ Al thought, suddenly feeling every bit of the years he'd earned. He leaned back in his chair and repeated his order, minus the phone number.

Sam said he'd have the same. When she left, he turned to Al. "She does look a little young for you, Al. She must be about 19. You're old enough to be her father." He paused for a moment before adding, contemplating the concept. "Hell! I could be her father!"

"Maybe," Al murmured. Seemed like today was just one reminder after another of how old he actually was compared to how old his mind felt.

Sam looked over to at his friend and realized that he seemed to be taking this way to seriously. "Besides, there are a lot of other women that seem to enjoy your company. I mean, Gloria and Mary Lou sure seemed to enjoy their time with you, if those notes were any indication."

"You saw the notes?" Al questioned, a frown on his face.

"Yeah... you left them on the dresser. I saw them when I got dressed this morning."

Al nodded slightly, focusing on his water. "We had a nice time together."

"I'll bet. I just don't want to hear any more details than what you said earlier; I've already got a headache."

Al frowned again. "Details?" Realization crossed his face. "You think that we... that we three together..." He stared at him with stunned amazement. "And I thought _I_ had a dirty mind!"

Sam looked at the shocked look on Al's face. He blushed. "Well, what was I supposed to think? This wouldn't be any different from a hundred other stories you've told me in the past, even when I ask you not to. You tell me about steak sauce as if it had become a new sexual toy. And you did walk out with both keycards."

Al's face was painted with righteous indignation. "Yeah, but they're my stories! They aren't your suppositions of what may or may not have happened based on notes you read or inferences into what I said. And what was I supposed to do with the keycards? Leave them on the television? I returned them to the girls!"

Sam's blush deepened and he looked down. _Damnit! What is it with these assumptions. First I believe he's drinking again, and then I accuse him of a menage à troi! _"I'm sorry, Al. You're right. I made a poor assumption." His sheepish eyes came up to meet Al's. "So what did you do?"

Al straightened in his chair. "If you must know, I took them to dinner. They had steak last night and both of them gave me a piece of it. That's what I meant about the steak sauce. The girls and I had a lovely time and they thoroughly enjoyed my stories about my younger days in the Academy."

"That does sound like a nice time."

"And then I escorted both of them to their rooms and Gloria…" Al got a leacherous look on his face before adding, "... well, she lived up to her name in more ways than one!"

Sam felt like he'd been suckered into another of his friend's tales. "Al!"

Al shrugged, "Well, you asked."

The waitress brought their meals. Sam took a deep breath. "Gawd, this smells good.

I'm famished."

Al grinned as he looked at the steak. "I haven't had a good steak since my fourth wife."

Sam had cut a piece of steak and was chewing. He swallowed and then tilted his head, his eyes showing confusion at the statement, "Huh? I thought you had steak last night."

"Yeah, but last night the company was better than the steak," Al told him. "That's probably the first time in a long time I've had steak. My fourth wife used to cut my food. And in public!" He shook his head as he cut into his steak. "Took me forever to look at steak the same way."

"Why'd you marry someone who'd do that to you?"

"She didn't do that before we married," he said bluntly. "She didn't think I was eating enough so she'd cut my food and insist I eat."

"Oh. I guess marriage can bring about some surprises." He took another bite of his steak and chewed it thoughtfully. He swallowed and continued. "Still...I don't think I could deal with that. It would be way too embarrassing."

"Yeah, tell me about it!" Al commented, "We didn't go out together after that. From there, things just went downhill."

Sam looked at his friend's face as he listened to what he knew were regrets. "I'm sorry, Al. You haven't had a lot of luck with marital bliss. I'd hoped Donna and I would have had that chance." He looked down again, sighing.

"Ah, Sam," Al sympathized. "Forget her. She's not worth it."

Sam looked up at Al. "How can I forget her? I loved her. I still do, I think."

Al reached and touched Sam's shoulder. "Sam, we all fall in love. Hell, I'm still in love with every one of my wives. But sometimes, you have to let the past go in order to get on with your life."

Sam nodded. He took another bite of his steak, again using the time chewing to think. With a slight sigh, he finally answered. "I guess. I know it would be better if I could just accept that she's not coming back."

Hearing Sam's words, Al felt as if he just kicked a wounded puppy. It couldn't have been easy for Sam to even imagine that Donna Elesee wasn't going to ever be part of his life, even if Al had been telling him to get over her for the past six years.

"You'll be all right, Kid," he tried to assure him.

Sam nodded but didn't say anything for awhile. He and Al finished their meals in silence. When they were finished the waitress asked about dessert.

"How's your tiramisu?" Al asked, the idea of chocolate being especially attractive. "Nothing better for dessert than coffee and chocolate... except more coffee and chocolate."

"Um. Well, I think our Adobe Pie is better. It's our signature dessert. Chocolate wafer crust, coffee and chocolate ice cream, almonds, whipped cream and chocolate syrup. And more chocolate wafers on top."

If Al could physically melt, he would have at the description of the decadent dessert. "Yumola," he sighed as if he'd just achieved Nirvana. "I'll definitely have that!" He turned to his friend. "Sam?"

"Huh?" Sam looked up as if he hadn't heard a word of the conversation between the waitress and Al, which Al strongly suspected was the truth.

"Dessert," Al told him slowly. "Do you want dessert?"

"Um, sure, I guess."

Al sighed, seeing the look on his friend's face. "Just give him one of the same. And a cup of coffee for me."

Sam heard the word coffee and looked up. "Do you have any herb tea?"

The waitress nodded, indicating a chamomile blend and Sam agreed to it. She headed off to get the rest of their meal.

Al wasn't sure that he should break the silence that had settled over them once again. But he was getting a little uncomfortable with it. He needed conversation. "So, where shall we look for those swim trunks? I thought I saw a little shop just outside of the Plaza that would have what you're looking for."

Sam nodded. "Okay."

Al had a feeling that Sam really wasn't listening to him. He took a chance at testing his theory. "I saw a great pair in the window that would suit you perfectly. Hot pink with bright neon green hibiscus flowers all over."

Sam nodded again. "Okay." He still sounded distracted. "Sounds fine."

"And then we'll go across the street and get you a mohawk and a tomtom and you can dance in the middle of the Plaza in your new bright pink swim trunks."

"Sure, whatever you say, Al."

Al started laughing. Sam looked up confused. "What?"

"Do you have any idea what you just agreed to?" Al chuckled all the more at Sam's confusion.

"I agreed to something? What are you talking about?"

"Yes. A mohawk, a tomtom, and a pair of atrocious, even for me, swim trunks. And a chance to make a fool out of yourself in front of all of Taos."

Sam's mouth dropped. "I'd never agree to any of those, Al!"

Al crossed his arms, a wide grin on his face. "You just did, Kid. In fact, you said, and I quote, 'Sure, whatever you say.'"

Sam shook his head. "I don't remember that."

"That's exactly the reason I don't ever want you talking to the committee or any of the contract personnel by yourself, Sam. God only knows what you'd say."

The waitress brought their desserts and hot drinks. When she set the dessert in front of Sam, he looked confused again. "I ordered this?"

"Actually, I ordered it for you since you were somewhere in la-la-land and indicated that you might be interested in dessert and herb tea."

Sam looked at the dessert. "Looks rich."

"Looks absolutely perfect!" Al emphasized. "Come on. Try it." He had already picked up his spoon and was dipping into it, looking much like a child in an ice cream parlor.

Sam took a bite and grimaced. "It's really sweet."

"It's ice cream, Sam," Al told him around the mouthful already melting in his mouth. "That's why it's called dessert," he added.

Sam gave him back a sarcastic smile but said nothing. He took a few bites and then concentrated solely on his tea. He allowed the pie to melt into a puddle on his plate.

Al finished every bite of his pie and, seeing Sam uninterested in his own dessert, reached over and took the chocolate wafers from his plate.

"You want anything other than the wafers?" Sam asked as Al took the cookies away.

The waitress brought their check in a black leather sleeve. Al waited until she left before answering, "I would've taken the whole dessert but you let it melt." Al grabbed the check, a wafer in his mouth as he pulled out his credit card and put it in the folder, laying it down so that it would be picked up again.

Seeing the waitress take the folder with her, Al turned his attention towards Sam. "You know this trip is going to get really expensive for me now. Speaking of which, exactly why don't you have your credit card? Why would you leave your credit card back at the Hilton?"

"I told you I'd pay you back. Just expense it when we get back to the project." He blushed a moment. "Um, when you ran out of the hotel room, I didn't have much time to make things right. I just told the Manager to ship my stuff back and to charge the room on my card, not yours. I just left everything except the two bags I pulled out of the room."

The waitress brought back the receipt to be signed, thanking the two men for choosing Olgavie's and wishing them well. She walked off to continue her duties elsewhere.

Al shook his head. "You're really way too trusting, Sam," he told him as he signed the receipt, giving a generous tip. "For all you know, someone could go shopping with your card. We could go back and pick up your bags, you know."

"I'm sure it will be okay, Al. Besides, they've probably already shipped everything out. And I gave my card to the Manager. The Manager of a Hilton. You think he'd actually allow my card to be used that way?

Al agreed that Sam probably had a point. "Okay, we don't try to retrieve your baggage. Speaking of which, what did you grab anyway in your haste? The computer and..."

"Um, the only other bag that was still packed, the one with the music and books and stuff."

Al laughed slightly. "You grabbed some important stuff there, Sam. Work and entertainment. Who needs clothes when you've got those?"

Sam gave him a half grin. "Well, I've got enough clothes now. It'll be okay." He stopped for a moment. "Except for the swim trunks. Let's go get those..." He paused again for a beat, "...and I'm not getting the ones you told me about, Al, even if I did 'agree' to it."

Al laughed slightly, standing up. "That's okay. I don't think they actually exist."

With Sam in tow, Al maneuvered out of the restaurant and towards the shop he had referred to. Sure enough, there was a pair of swim trunks that fit Sam. They were rather plain but in shade of green that matched his eyes. With the bag in hand, they headed back to the Plaza, Al still wanting to do a little evening shopping.

The shops were still open but it was coming close to closing time for many of them even with the summer hours. One shop in particular caught Al's eye. They entered into a Southwestern Wear shop and Al was captivated by a tan leather jacket with tasteful beading. There was just enough fringe to subtlety state "New Mexico." Al could tell it was Sam's size. He picked up the tag and found the jacket was on sale. Only $300.

"Sam, take a look at this," he exclaimed. He turned it towards him. "You'd look great in this. Try it out."

Sam looked at the jacket. "It has fringe, Al."

Al put his hand on his hip. "So?"

"I told you...I don't do fringe."

"Have you ever even tried?" Al asked with a raised eyebrow. "I'm telling you, Sam. You'd look great in this."

"Al. This fixation you have on me and fringe has got to stop." His voice was a little louder then he meant it to be and a couple of women looked over at him and Al, whispering.

Al exhaled, frowning at him. "You're making a hell of a big deal over a little decorative touch to a leather jacket, Sam."

"Would you just quit it? I don't want it."

"I'm not asking you to buy it, Sam. Just to try it on." Seeing the glare in Sam's eyes, he planted the jacket back on the rack firmly. "Fine. Have it your way." He rubbed his face. "I'm going back to the Lodge," he grumbled, feeling the beginnings of a headache.

"Fine. You do that. I'm going to stay down here awhile. There's a new brew pub that opened up last year at this time I've heard about. I'm going to try it out."

"Whatever," Al murmured, leaving the store. He really didn't want to deal with Sam Beckett at that moment. Instead, he started towards the Plaza's exit, stopping briefly to make an impulse purchase - an out-of this-world leather jacket that had a large STOP sign on the back - before walking back to the Lodge.

_Friday, August 27, 1993_

_9:30 p.m_

Sam watched as Al walked up the side of the Plaza. He decided to continue the other way, walking around the Plaza once more before heading across the street to the new pub he'd heard one of the computer technicians talking about the previous week on the project. It was called Eske's and it had a nice patio. Sam had been told they had live music on the weekends. It was Friday night and he decided that a fresh beer was right up his alley at the moment.

He headed into the restaurant. Already a crowd had formed, everyone sharing the picnic tables out on the patio. Sam went to find a place to sit. He lightly tapped a woman with long blond hair on the shoulder to ask if he could take the seat next to her.

The woman turned her head, curious as to who was getting her attention. But when her eyes met those of the handsome man, she nearly dropped the drink that was in her hand. "Sam?" she questioned with shock. "Sam Beckett?"

Sam looked at the woman, confused for a moment and then recognition hit him. "Michelle? Michelle Marshall? Geez, it's been 15 years!" He decided to continue on with his request. "You mind if I sit here beside you?"

"Are you kidding? I'd be offended if you didn't!" She laughed, standing to give him a welcoming hug. "Gawd, it's good to see you! You look fabulous!" She paused for a moment. "Except for that black eye and all those scratches. Damn…looks like you got in a fight and lost."

He shifted uncomfortably, recalling how he got the shiner, "Um, well, I sort of deserved it."

"You, Sam?" She grinned widely at him. "I saw the article in 'Time'. Man of the Year, the next Einstein..."

"Yeah, well…" The waitress came over and Sam ordered a beer…or liquid bread as he'd heard they liked to call it here. He turned back blushing. "Um, well they make stuff sound really special in those publications. I think they have to hype things to sell the magazines. I mean, it's the work that's important. Not me."

"Of course, they do. But that doesn't mean they aren't telling the truth." She pulled him down to sit beside her. "What kind of work are you in? After MIT, I had a hard time following your career."

"Hmmmm. Well, after I graduated with you in Computer Science, I walked for my MD. Then I went to Cambridge and did some more academic work there. A year later, I joined a project here in New Mexico. That ended about six years ago. I'm working on another project now, but I can't talk about it. But, really, you don't want to hear about me. I want to hear about you. Do you live here in Taos?" His beer arrived and he took a sizable drink out of it. "That's good beer!"

She shook her head. "Socorro. Just came up for a little get away weekend before starting my newest employment position."

Sam's face dropped in surprise. "Socorro? That's where I have my house. Unfortunately, I don't get to spend much time there anymore. I started renting it out about two years ago."

"Really?" She sighed. "Too bad. If we'd met before, I could have invited you to my house for dinner. As it is, I have to go home Monday to do the last of my packing."

"Packing?"

"Yeah," she said, sipping at her drink. "Socorro's just too far away from Los Alamos so I'm moving north instead of doing the multiple hour drive every day."

"You're going to be working at Los Alamos? Well, that's only about three hours away, give or take a half hour." He looked at her again giving her a long sweep with his eyes. "I can't believe how good you look, Michelle."

She blushed slightly at the compliment. "I can certainly say the same thing about you, Sam."

She looked into his eyes and instantly it seemed to him as if the last 15 years had disappeared. He remembered how his arms felt around her body, the taste of her lips...

He thought back to his last year in the computer doctorate program. He had been an intern at Massachusetts General and didn't have a lot of time for recreation. He and Michelle had been working on a project to see if they could develop a truly artificial intelligence. The closeness in the lab had led to a very personal relationship. He smiled at the memory. "Hey, you want to go someplace with a little less people? I mean, I'm enjoying the beer here but I'd like to really catch up with you."

Michelle smiled back. "I'm staying at the Taos Inn. The Adobe Bar there is a little more intimate. Would you like to go there?"

Sam smiled. He pulled out his wallet, glad that he had enough cash now to cover both his and Michelle's drinks. He even had enough to cover a few more at the Taos Inn. "Sure. Let me get these and we'll head over there."

"It's a short walk," Michelle told him. "We can talk on the way too."

As they walked down the street towards her hotel, Sam again felt the years melting away. He and Michelle had been what several of her friends termed "an item." Sam had even considered taking the relationship deeper, but Michelle had gotten a job at the University of Kentucky and he decided to go with Dr. LoNigro to England when his former professor took a teaching sabbatical at Cambridge University. He wondered now where that relationship might have gone. "What were you doing in Socorro? Last I knew you were in Kentucky."

"I taught there for a few years," she told him, nodding her head. "Took a job in Texas as a computer systems engineer. But when the contract ran out on that, I got a job here at New Mexico Tech." She smiled gently at him. "What about you?"

"I told you pretty much everything. I'm currently working on a project on White Sands Missile Base, but it's classified and I can't talk about it."

She chuckled slightly. "Typical Sam. You never take credit when it's due you." She didn't sound offended but rather as if she were remembering fond pastimes.

Sam smiled again, hearing her slight laugh. It brought back memories. He was suddenly taken by one of him and Michelle at the weekend cabin that Dr. LoNigro had told Sam he could use. Sam had taken Michelle up to it for some hiking and time together. Thinking of that weekend, he found himself responding to her closeness.

_It's been a long time,_ Sam reminded himself.

They had arrived at the hotel and, although the bar area was full, they found a small table in the corner. The server had taken their drink order, two margaritas. They continued their conversation.

Michelle looked up from her drink. "So, tell me, Sam? Anyone special in your life right now?" That brought another question to her mind. "And how's your mom?"

Sam was taken somewhat by surprise by the last question. "Um, she fine. She still lives in Hawaii with my sister. And to answer your other question, no, there's no one special in my life right now." He paused. "Is there anyone in your life right now? I mean, someone significant to you?"

She thought for a moment of the few men she'd had relationships with, none of them in the past ten years leading to anything more than a passing phase. She shook her head. "Not right now. There have been a couple since MIT but... things just didn't work out with any of them." She looked at him with tender eyes.

Sam wasn't sure but he was getting vibes that Michelle wouldn't turn him away if he pursued her. He didn't know where it would lead and that bothered him somewhat. However, sitting here with her, he wanted so badly to reignite the flames that had marked their relationship those many years ago. His voice held desire as he started, "Michelle, I'd really, um..." He coughed. This was harder than he thought. He'd never been good at this. And getting good at it would mean being like Al.

She blinked at his nervousness for a moment and then gently smiled at him. "Sam, are you trying to make a proposition to follow the drinks here?"

Sam eyes went down and he blushed. _Nice to know I'm that obvious, _he thought ruefully. "Yes. I am. I'd understand if you said no, Michelle. I'd never..."

"Yes," she said bluntly, interrupting Sam's attempt to give her a means of backing out.

His head came up and he looked at her to assure himself that she was really okay with her decision. Looking in her eyes, he sensed this was a decision she was. He smiled. "Where...?"

Michelle fingered her glass pensively. "Well... we could go back to my hotel room." She smiled gently at him. "To be honest, I'd been thinking about it since I saw you at Eske's. I was just afraid you'd say no if I was so... open about my interests."

"I wouldn't say no. The interest goes both ways."

They finished their drinks. Michelle got up and beckoned Sam to follow her. They headed back to her room, which was off to itself. As they reached room 109, she ran her hand down the length of her hair as she reached for her door key. She felt as nervous as a schoolgirl but also as ready as any woman could ever be. Unlocking the door, she allowed Sam to enter before following, locking the door behind her.

"Sam..." she started, carefully removing her jewelry. "I need to tell you. It's been a long time for me."

"It's been awhile for me as well, Michelle." He walked over to her, taking her in his arms, his hand cupping her face and turning her lips to his. He felt an excitement building in him as his lips started to explore hers. He couldn't believe he was acting this quickly. Never in his life had he been this forward.

Michelle could have sworn she had gone limp for a moment, only realizing that she was still standing due to the fact that her hand was trying to do something. It took a moment to realize she was attempting to put her jewelry on the dresser. "Are you chilly?" she breathed. "We could... build a fire."

He pulled away lightly. "You've already built one," he whispered huskily. He started to kiss her neck, softly, each kiss feather soft but speaking so much promise. He thought for a moment that perhaps he should slow things down. It felt so good though. Six years was a long time. After Donna, he'd told himself he would wait for her, knowing in his heart she would be back someday. Now… well, now he had an incredibly beautiful woman in his arms and she was responding to him as well. He let his emotions pull him along.

"I did?" she breathed, turning her head towards the fireplace and then back to Sam. There wasn't a fire in the fireplace but there certainly was one in his eyes. "I can see that," she whispered, her hands moving over his shirt, finding a button.

Michelle had on a t-shirt with a picture of Kokopelli. The fabric was thin and her nipples were showing through. Sam reached his hand up under her shirt, massaging his fingers along her side. He continued to kiss her, now working on her earlobe. His breath was hot and the breathing somewhat staccato. "You're beautiful, Michelle. More beautiful than I remembered."

"Sam..." she murmured, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. It seemed as good as anything to say at a time like this so she said the name again, letting it roll off of her tongue like a magical spell. Hearing his words of clear affection, she tried to give her own kisses but finding it hard to focus on anything but the magic spell he was placing over her. "Don't stop," she almost begged.

Clear of his shirt, which had been dropped to the floor, and hearing her words of encouragement, he picked Michelle up and carried her to the bed. He laid her down gently and removed her shirt. He kissed her again as he removed her bra, allowing his fingers to play upon her torso.

Michelle reached around and cupped the back of his head, humming gently to the sensations Sam was deliberately sending through her. One hand gently glided down his back and then around. She was starting to curse the invention of clothing, as the garments seemed to be making it harder for her to obtain what she wanted. "Gawd, you're gorgeous!" she breathed, working the belt on his jeans.

He too was working her clothing free and soon, neither had anything to keep them from fulfilling their desire. Sam gently made love to Michelle, for the first time in six years allowing himself to simply be a man with a beautiful woman in his arms. He felt her passions matching his own and felt that this was more than spontaneous lust. Sam was as generous to her as he could be, not taking from another soul anything that he did not return in kind.

The rest of the night was a continuation of their reunion. Sam felt himself more relaxed then he had been in years. When they finally fell asleep, spent, Michelle was curled into his arms as he draped his arm over her. He felt content. He realized he hadn't felt that way for quite some time.


	5. Chapter 5

**THE OTHER SIDE OF LIFE**

**CHAPTER FIVE**

_Friday, August 27, 1993_

_9:45 p.m_

After Al had purchased the jacket with the large Stop sign on its back, he decided to wear the jacket back to the Lodge, even though the weather was nice and warm. As he strolled down the sidewalk, he couldn't help but think about the argument... disagreement... whatever you want to call it... that Sam and he just had. It was just a stupid Southwestern jacket, after all. Why did he push Sam so hard into trying it on? What exactly was he trying to do, change the man?

Maybe that was what was wrong with him. Al wanted Sam to be more like him and he knew that he wouldn't be and could never be. Besides if Sam were exactly like him, he doubted they would get along at all. Al was all too aware of his own shortcomings. Like his temper.

God, he hated his own temper. It had gotten him in enough trouble in his life. In fact, it was the reason they were on this stupid trip in the first place. If he'd kept his temper in check and explained the process of getting requisitions like a rational human being, Ziggy wouldn't have shocked him or sent them away.

And then there was Sam. He was so naive sometimes it was painful. He seemed to see the world in black and white all the time. And he really had too much trust in Al. Al never did understand that part of their friendship. After all, it was Sam who saved his career... hell, saved his life if he thought about it. And what did Al ever do? He gave him grief, taunting him about how he didn't know how to have a good time.

Well, actually, that was true. Sam didn't know how to have a good time. What fun was it to spend hours and hours working on a computer that didn't seem to work right the moment it came online?

Al came to a realization at that moment. He and Sam just weren't good for each other as friends. Lately, all they ever did was argue, even over a stupid leather jacket with fringe. He shook his head as he approached the Lodge. He needed to clear his thoughts. For one, they were getting depressing and, for another, he didn't think he liked the idea of him and Sam not being friends.

Going into his room, he decided that perhaps some time in the whirlpool would do him good, relax the tension in his muscles - in particularly his back. Yes, a nice hot whirlpool would do the trick. Changing into his swim trunks, a rather festive pair with palm trees against a tan and ocean blue background, and slipping on the coordinating T-shirt - light polyester so that it didn't soak up too much water - he left the room, making sure that he had the key securely on his person. He padded his way to the pool and noted the hours. Perfect. He still had a half an hour. That was all the time he needed.

Operating the whirlpool was a simple matter of turning some timer knobs and slipping in when it started to bubble. Turning on the whirlpool, he climbed the short stairway that led to the beckoning swirls of water and slipped in with a sigh. Definitely this was exactly what he needed.

Al had closed his eyes enjoying the feeling of the jets on his back. He heard the sound of the pool gate opening. Taking a look at who was coming, he was thrilled to see a bombshell brunette in a one piece black swim suit heading towards the whirlpool.

"You mind if I join you?"

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't," Al told her with a smile.

Watching the woman as she kicked off her flipflops and laid her key down with them, he couldn't help but admire how the bathing suit fit her in all the right places. "So... where are you from?"

"Dallas," she answered as she slipped into the whirlpool. As she stepped into the pool, she grabbed the side of the spa with her left hand. Al noticed a wedding set on it.

_Well, at least this night isn't a complete loss_, Al thought. Although spending the night with a lovely lady would have been great, a conversation was the second best thing, in his opinion. "Nice country out there. Visiting with your husband?"

"Yes. Ted and I usually come to New Mexico each year at this time. He was a little beat from the long drive. I just want to relax a little before going to bed. By the way, my name is Sandra Tanners."

"I'm Al Calavicci."

She looked up into the sky, smiling. "It's a beautiful night tonight. I love how you can see the stars here. In Dallas there's just too much light pollution."

Al sighed with contentment, her words filtering into his mind, reminding him of the first time he had ever laid eyes on the New Mexican sky. "Oh, D.C.'s worse, trust me. There is no sky in D.C. But here..." He turned to her. "You should go out away from all the towns. In the middle of nowhere, there's literally nothing but the sky."

"Hmmm, perhaps we'll do that. We just usually come to Taos and spent a few days here and then head back home." She paused then added, "I just love Taos. It's like the world slows down here."

Al exhaled. "It would be nice if that were the truth," he said mostly to himself.

"You seem to have something on your mind," she said looking towards him. "I'm a good listener."

Al hesitated, rubbing his face for a moment. It wasn't likely he'd ever see this woman again. He figured it couldn't hurt to talk about what was bothering him. "It's just... my friend. For some reason, all we seem to do is argue lately. And the arguments are just getting pettier. You know, earlier, we were arguing over whether or not he'd look good in a certain leather jacket."

She raised an eyebrow. "Have you been together long?"

Al frowned. "Define together."

"Um, well...I don't know you but it is the nineties and you were arguing over a piece of clothing. I thought you and your friend might be a couple."

Al moaned at the implication. "Great. Twice in one trip. My reputation is ruined forever."

"Excuse me? I'm afraid I don't understand. From your reaction, I'd say I made the wrong assumption. I apologize, but petty arguments and disagreements over clothes sound more like long term relationship than anything else. Sounds like my husband and me. We've been married seven years this coming November."

It was either blush furiously with embarrassment or chuckle. Al chose the latter. "We've known each other for a long time but it's completely and totally the platonic love of two totally heterosexual males."

"Ah...I see. Just really close friends. My husband has a buddy like that. His name is Jack. They've known each other since high school."

"It's just... I really like wearing clothes that show my personality and Sam... my friend, he... doesn't." He sighed. "To be honest, I don't think the argument was really over clothing. We've been arguing about one thing or the other since before we even started this trip." He chuckled again. "The kicker is that this is supposed to help us resolve problems, not cause more."

"How do you know he's not showing his personality in a different way? Do his clothes seem out of character? Maybe you're not facing what the real problems are so you argue about the little things."

Al leaned back in the whirlpool. "Maybe. It's just... the Kid doesn't seem to understand the way the world works, like he sees only black and white and not gray. I'm probably being unfair to him but..."

She looked at him tilting her head. "Are you sure you're not projecting your own point of view on him?"

Al thought about her words. "No, I'm not. I'm not sure about anything anymore. All I ever seem to do is screw up his life. Don't know what he ever saw in me anyway."

"Well, I don't know you, of course, but you seem like a very nice man to me. Have you ever asked him? I mean why he finds your friendship worth the time. I know that a few years ago Ted and Jack got into an argument."

"I doubt that it was anything like these have been."

"Well, they stopped talking for about a year. Then one day, Ted called Jack to go golfing. After they got back, things were back to the way they were. I can only guess, of course, but I think they had a long talk that day. I can't imagine that it was just the game itself."

"I can't imagine not talking to Sam for that long. A year's a long time."

"I asked Ted about that one time. He said they just got to a point where they didn't know what to say to each other anymore. They thought it would be easier to just not say anything. But that's the point. Ted finally made the first move, started them back down the path. I think that sometimes people who are close start thinking they know the other person too well, when really, they're just starting to peel back another layer of the onion.

The woman in charge of the hotel came out to the whirlpool. "I'm sorry but the pool area closed fifteen minutes ago."

Sandra looked over to her. "I'm sorry. We just got to talking and the time slipped away." She turned to Al as she started out of the whirlpool. "It was nice meeting you, Al. I hope you get it all sorted out."

"Yeah, me too," Al commented, standing up and stepping out of the whirlpool. Grabbing a towel, he started to dry himself off as he walked towards the gate. Seeing the woman walking out the gate, he called to her.

"Hey, Sandra. Thanks for listening." Getting a smile in return, he started towards his room. A nice shower to get the chlorine off would suit him just fine.

After a shower and a change into his pajamas, Al slipped into the bed and tried to sleep.

However, lying in bed wide awake for two hours wasn't his idea of rest. He couldn't help but think about what Sandra had said at the pool. Was it possible that he and Sam didn't know each other as well as he thought they did? Or was Sam really like an onion... along with the pungent scent?

Al couldn't help but chuckle at the comparison. Okay, Sam wasn't quite that bad. As for himself, Al suddenly felt the need to set the record straight. This arguing had to stop. It was getting ridiculous. And if Al had to bite the bullet and get the ball rolling towards a compromise, he was going to do it.

_Well, no time like the present._

Al sat up in his bed and grabbed his robe, slipping it on carefully before grabbing his room key and exiting. He had to at least check on Sam and let him know there were no hard feelings about the jacket argument. As for the argument over the requisition... well, Al would just have to hold his temper in check long enough to explain the situation, like he should have done in the first place.

Going to Sam's door, he knocked a couple of times. "Sam?" Getting no response from the third attempt, he decided that perhaps the younger man was sound asleep and didn't hear the knock. Turning the handle, Al took a step into the room... and found it empty.

"Sam!" he called out loudly, hoping that the scientist would be close by. But when his call was met with silence, he started to worry. Okay, so Sam tended to spend too much time working on his little projects. But he wasn't apt to stay out of the hotel room past two o'clock in the morning!

Hurrying back to his own room, Al immediately changed his clothes. For a man most meticulous about his dress, he didn't pay much attention to how he was dressed now: wrinkled trousers, a shirt that wasn't neatly tucked in, and a pair of loafers with no socks - just enough to go out in public without being considered indecent.

_What happened to Sam? Where is he?_ Al's thoughts ran wild over the multiple possibilities. After what had happened to Sam on the highway, it terrified the Admiral that his friend could have had some sort of delirium. What if Sam had had a concussion after all?

"God, what if he's laying in the middle of the street?" Al questioned aloud. The question only spurred him on to going out and finding Sam.

Leaving his room, he had almost ran off into the night with nothing but his room key but a slight sense of rationality struck him, forcing him to go back and get the flashlight from the car. It wouldn't do to walk around in the middle of the night without a light source.

A quick search of the El Pueblo Lodge revealed one thing: Sam didn't return to the Lodge after Al had left him in the Plaza. The bed in his room hadn't been slept in and there was no trace of a possibility that he'd gone into the wrong room or even in the lounge off of the office, which was closed anyway. All that left was the rest of Taos.

"Think, Calavicci. Think," Al murmured, forcing himself to calm his racing heart. It wouldn't do to go off half-cocked around Taos, looking for one man in the middle of the night. He needed a game plan. "Right. Last known location," he told himself before starting the walk back to the Plaza.

Any street is eerie at night. But for some reason, Al found this particular street more eerie than most. That was probably because with every step, he kept expecting to see Sam's body lying in the middle of the street with coyotes taking bloody chunks out of him. He shivered at the imagery and shook his head. _Don't let your imagination get the better of you, Calavicci. You need to stay calm._

Finally getting to the Plaza, he found it empty except for a few cars, very likely patrons of some of the restaurants that refused to leave after the doors had already closed. Searching throughout the Plaza and not finding a sign of the physicist, Al forced himself to breathe slower. Sam had to be somewhere! At the very least, there should be a clue!

Almost as if a voice had whispered it into his ear, he remembered Sam mentioning that he wanted to try to new pub close to the Plaza. What was the name of it again? Eskimo?

It was already past three o'clock when Al approached the pub. Immediately, he noticed two things. One, the pub was closed. Two, Sam Beckett was nowhere in sight.

"This isn't happening," Al murmured, running his hand through his hair. "This really isn't happening."

Rubbing his face with his hand again, he started back towards the Lodge. With no sight of Sam at the two places he knew Sam should be, or at least said he was going to, Al didn't know where else to look. He could go to the police and report a missing person but it hadn't even been 24 hours since he'd left Sam at the Plaza. And the police wouldn't do anything without some sort of evidence that Sam was in trouble. And gut instinct wasn't evidence.

Finally getting back to the Lodge, Al decided that, just to be safe, he'd wait in Sam's room. After all, if Sam did come back on his own, at least Al would be there to make sure he had come back in one piece.

Being in Sam's room, however, was turning out to be a bad idea after all. The sight of Sam's possessions sitting out, waiting for their owner to return, only made it harder for Al to think clearly. So, he paced and worried. And the more he paced and worried, the more horrible and fantastic Sam's fate seemed to him. _He was mugged again and this time those bastards shot him. He got plastered and decided to walk back to PQL and got run over on the highway. He went to Taos Pueblo and got lost in the pueblos..._

After a good hour of pacing, Al found that his legs couldn't support his weight anymore. Slumping into one of the chairs at the table, he fingered the handlink, having found it lying just under Sam's sweater.

"Sam... where are you?" Al whispered mostly to himself. Picking up the handlink, he looked at it with questioning. There was something nagging him to do something with it but his brain couldn't sort the jumble of hyperactive worrisome emotions running over him combined with the growing fatigue. He laid his chin on his hand, which lay on the table, staring at the handlink. He knew the handlink was the key to the mystery.

His eyes opened wide and he practically jumped up from the chair. There was light coming through the sheer curtains on the window, telling that morning had come.

Quickly looking around, he noticed the time on the clock by the bed. 6:23 am.

"Shit!" Al exclaimed. _How could I be so stupid?! Falling asleep while my friend is out there, possibly dying or dead?! What kind of friend am I?! _ He rubbed his face roughly and stared again at the handlink. As if a switch had been flipped, a thought came to him. He'd found Sam's possessions using the handlink to locate the muggers earlier on this trip. Why couldn't he use it this time? And why the hell didn't he think of this four hours ago when he was going completely bonkers?

Turning the handlink on, he looked at the small LED panel that instantly scrolled information the moment he typed in a question. He briefly marveled at the results. Ziggy not only was able to locate Sam, he was also able to assure Al that the younger man was in good health. Indeed, Ziggy indicated that Dr. Beckett was as stress free as the computer felt was humanly possible.

"Well, he's not going to stay in good health or stress free for long!" Al exclaimed, marching out of Sam's room and following the lead of the handlink.

Al briskly walked down the 5 blocks or so that Ziggy indicated to be the location of the good doctor. When he arrived to the location that Ziggy had shown him, he found himself approaching the Taos Inn. He couldn't believe his eyes. There was Sam and an amazingly attractive blonde. It looked as if they had been recently seated at a table for breakfast on the patio.

Al's brisk walk had immediately shifted into a sharp militaristic march as he approached the couple, his focus solely on the man. "Where the hell have you been all night? Do you have any clue how insane with worry I've been? You didn't even come back to the hotel!"

Sam noticed the other patrons starring at the three of them. "Um… Al. Calm down. You're making a scene. Why don't you sit down and we can discuss this quietly."

"Calm down?! CALM DOWN?! I thought you were dead in the streets! At the very least you could have TOLD me that you weren't going to be back at the hotel. Instead, I had to learn by myself that you hadn't even taken a nap!"

Sam's voice started taking on a hint of fire as he continued as calmly as possible, "Yes. Calm down. If you haven't noticed, there is a lady present. And quite frankly, I don't want to get her thrown out of this hotel for disrupting the peace."

Al clenched his fist tightly and took a breath before exhaling. There it was, clearly in Sam's voice. Obviously, Sam thought Al was responsible for what happened at the Hilton. Well, if it hadn't been for Sam and his jumping to erroneous conclusions...

"For the lady," Al finally consented, slowly sitting down. "NOT for you."

"Fine." Sam took a deep breath. He figured that before they got into another argument which was obviously coming, he should introduce Michelle. "Michelle, this is my friend and partner, Admiral Albert Calavicci. Al, this is Michelle Marshall. We were graduate students together at MIT when I was working on my doctorate in Computer Science."

Al gave the woman a courteous nod. "Pleased to meet you." He drew his attention away from the attractive woman to focus on Sam. "Mind telling me why I spent all night worrying about whether or not I needed to call the police and report a missing, possibly injured or dead, person?"

Sam looked distinctly uncomfortable. Michelle noticed and excused herself to "powder her nose." Sam looked at her gratefully. "This shouldn't take long." After she left he turned to Al. "I didn't know I was supposed to check in with you. When I'm visiting Mom, okay, she expects to know where I am but she's my mother. Geez, Al. I'm forty years old. I don't have any curfew that I'm aware of."

Al glared at him. "No, you don't have a curfew. But you do have a partner and I would expect the courtesy of knowing at least that you aren't going to be available to have breakfast with me! Instead, I find your bed empty and no clue as to where you are or even that you are alive!"

"I didn't get upset with you when you spent the night with Gloria. You didn't give me that courtesy so I didn't think you'd expect it from me. But I guess you expect me to play by different rules."

"I gave you the courtesy. I said I was going out with the girls. You said absolutely nothing. Besides which, we were at least in the same hotel and I gave you their names. Process of elimination. You? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not even a glimmer. Nada, Zip, Zilch."

Sam sighed deeply. He looked Al directly in the eyes. "Al, I met an old friend. We sort of got involved. I wasn't about to stop in the middle of everything and call you. You, of all people, should understand that. And I didn't know when you left with the girls when you'd be back. When I woke at four a.m. and you weren't back yet, I figured you must be involved."

Al leaned in on the table. "I would have called you at least to say I wouldn't be making it to breakfast. You knew I was in the same hotel at least!"

"No...You could have done any number of things, Al. I didn't _know_ anything. Anyways...how did you know I hadn't been back to my room?"

Al hesitated, a sense of guilt flooding him. "Well... I knocked. You know... so we could talk about what happened at the Plaza. You didn't answer."

"Maybe I was asleep. You know there are times I could sleep through a nuclear explosion." Watching Al, Sam got a strange feeling he wasn't telling him something. He looked over at the older man with a face that said he expected the beans to be spilled and quickly.

"Yeah," Al nodded slightly, suddenly looking away from Sam's gaze. He didn't realize that the tables at this inn had that pattern in them. "That's why I... opened the door."

Sam looked confused. "You got an extra key to my room?"

"No." Al drew his finger along a part of the design.

Sam's eyes got wider. "You picked the lock?"

Al looked up at him as if he'd been stung. "Sam, I'd never break and enter into your room!" Looking at the physicist's gaze and realizing he had to come clean, he finished, "I... didn't have to. The lock didn't work in the first place."

Sam countenance took on a decidedly shocked look. "My door lock didn't work and you didn't tell me? Someone could have just come in and killed me in my sleep and you didn't think that was worth mentioning? You say you were worried about me not coming back to the Lodge but you weren't worried about the lock?"

Al glared at him. "I had intended on telling you while we were out so that we could inform the front desk. Besides, you always put the chain on before you go to bed. I knew you'd be safe."

The younger man's eyes narrowed. "Those chains can be broken with enough force." Sam got up. "You won't need to worry about me tonight. I won't be back to the Lodge. Is that enough notice? I'll be checking out of my room in about an hour."

Al grimaced as if Sam had just force fed him an egg protein shake. "Ah, Sam. Don't be like that. I'm sorry I flew off the handle like that."

Sam simply glared at Al. "Don't be like what, Al? You know...you can say all you want that you provided information on your whereabouts but I can tell you from experience, you assume I'll just accept things most of the time. You always assume that I'll be okay with how you choose to do things. And for the most part I am. You're a grown man and I may not always like what you're doing but I respect your ability to take care of yourself."

"Why do you think I didn't bring up the lock? I figured you'd figure that out on your own. I know you can take care of yourself, Sam. But you have certain habits and one of them isn't staying out away from your hotel room with no forwarding address. And why would I expect you to be involved?"

Sam blinked and considered this quickly. "Well, maybe I don't always have to follow a habit. I can be spontaneous. And I'm not a monk."

Al huffed. "And the sky suddenly rains lollipops. Two nights ago you were feeling up a lamp! Besides, I have never seen you being spontaneous, Sam. You always think things out and leave a trail of breadcrumbs."

Sam looked at Al as if the older man had stabbed him in the heart. "You really don't think I can be spontaneous? What about the day I found you pounding on the soda machine? I didn't think anything out. I just went with my gut. I guess that doesn't mean anything to you." Sam turned and headed back into the Inn. He vaguely heard a final plea from Al but figured it wasn't worth the effort to hear it.

"Sam..." Al said, watching the younger man walk away. He exhaled slowly. It just wasn't fair, damn it. Why did he have to "open mouth, insert foot" at the worst of times?

"I'll be at the hotel room," he muttered to Sam, knowing that the latter couldn't even hear him. Turning, he left the patio and started the walk back to the El Pueblo Lodge. He didn't know how he was going to fix this one. Hell, he wondered if there was even a point to trying.

_Saturday, August 28, 1993_

_6:45 a.m._

Sam went back to the room. He figured when Michelle didn't return, she probably went there. He was right.

"Sorry about that, Michelle. I just don't understand what's going on right now." He paused and then looked up. "You think I can get a room here at the Taos Inn tonight? I'm going to have to leave where I'm currently staying."

Michelle gave him a sad smile, knowing that something serious had just happened between Sam and his partner. "Well, I think the inn is all booked up but... you can stay in my room, if you want."

Sam shook his head. "I wouldn't want to impose."

"Sam... we just spent the night together." She smiled thinking of how wonderful the night had truly been. Sam Beckett might be shy, but he definitely was a fantastic lover. She thought about the possibilities of a repeat performance. "How much of an imposition do you honestly think you'd be?"

He gave her a lopsided grin. "Guess you're right about that." He walked over to her and pulled her into his arms. "I would like some more time with you. It's like it was fate that we both ended up here at the same time."

Michelle grinned at his words. "Well, it's a nice coincidence at least." She gave him a quick kiss and then pulled away. She walked over to put on her ring she'd left on the bedside table. "How long are you staying?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't know. We were sort of sent on a trip to get things settled between us. Instead it seems to be getting worse. The last three days have been really strange between Al and me." He paused and his shoulder's slumped. "Today doesn't look to be any better."

She frowned. "What do you mean 'sent'? Is this some kind of odd business team building trip? And what do you mean strange?" she asked. She really was interested. Sam seemed genuinely confused, leading her to the supposition that he and his friend didn't always argue.

He sighed. "Not exactly. It has something to do with my project though. As to strange... well, that fight you witnessed part of is out of character for both of us. I don't know why all this is happening right now."

She nodded. "Well, the offer of the room stands for the next two nights. Then I have to head on back and finish the packing for the move I told you about."

"That should work. I just wish I could figure out what's going on. Al and I never fight like this." He stopped, sitting down on the bed. "He's been my friend for the last eleven years. I know he's not perfect and he knows I'm not either. But suddenly, it's like both of us have become hypersensitive about each other's character traits."

"What do you mean?" she asked, sitting down in the chair facing him.

"Well, Al really likes the ladies. And he used to be an alcoholic, although he beat that demon years ago." Sam was suddenly reminded of the trigger to the previous day's fight that had resulted in their coming to Taos. "I don't know what got into me but yesterday I basically accused him of going back to the bottle with no more evidence than that he was in a bar with a drink." Sam mentally kicked himself. "I can't believe I picked it up and smelled it. It was ginger ale." He got up and started pacing. "I almost destroyed our friendship over a glass of ginger ale!"

Seeing him pace, she knew he was upset. Sam couldn't stay still under those conditions for the life of him. "Has he ever relapsed? Ever given you reason to question him?"

"Not in the eleven years I've known him." Sam body language was one of total dejection. "Some friend I am."

"Hmmm. What about your traits? You say this is happening in both directions."

"Well, Al seems to really have this thing suddenly about my being rigid and not following procedures, and being boring and stuff. He acts like I can't take care of myself. That's not me."

Michelle laughed. "No. That's not the Sam Beckett I knew at MIT. A little on the serious side, perhaps, but never boring or rigid."

"Now, suddenly, Al seems to want to change me. He wants me to be more flamboyant like him. He even suggested a jacket the other day that… well, it's just not my style."

Michelle smiled. "Why don't you let me be the judge of that? You know, get a second opinion?"

Sam figured that wasn't a bad idea. "Okay. We'll go down to the Plaza later." He stopped again and then changed the subject. "Hey, I still owe you breakfast. You want to go to Michael's Kitchen?"

"Sure. We can do that. Right after we go pick up your stuff."

_Saturday, August 28, 1993_

_7:00 a.m._

Al opened his hotel room door with the key but didn't bother to close the door behind him. He couldn't remember feeling this down in a long, long time. All Sam and he seemed to be doing lately was arguing. Ever since that stupid computer came online, it had been nothing but a problem here, a problem there, culminating with the now infamous argument in the Control Room over cabling. Cabling! Did the world suddenly curse the two of them with intolerance for each other's little quirks?

Al sat on the bed and looked at his luggage thoughtfully. It was starting to look very tempting to just pack up and leave. After all, isn't that what Sam was going to do? Pack up and leave with the blonde bombshell he'd just been reacquainted with?

Al sighed. No, he wouldn't pack up and leave, just as he knew Sam wouldn't pack up and leave permanently either. But why Sam decided to shack up with that blond instead of just staying in his hotel room at the El Pueblo Lodge just didn't make sense.

If he were to choose between the two of them to go leaving their hotel room to spend the next few days with an old acquaintance to... remember the good times, Al would have picked himself, not the prudish prince.

The whole thing was starting to give him one hell of a headache. None of it made any sense. Neither of them were acting as themselves. Like down in the Plaza. Al would normally never push something so hard on Sam like he did that jacket. Okay, Al loved it. Why did he insist Sam love it too?

Maybe their true colors were finally showing after so many years. And if that were the case, Al might as well go ahead and pack and leave on the next available transportation to Albuquerque or wherever he could catch a plane back to D.C.

Standing up, he looked around at the room. Damn, he needed a cigar. Grabbing one from his jacket, he left the jacket inside and found a lawn chair. Cutting the cigar and then lighting it, he let the tobacco soothe his nerves. Now if only he could get rid of the headache...

Al saw a car pull up in front of Sam's room. It was an emerald green 1992 Pontiac Firebird and the bombshell was driving, Sam next to her. Al saw him get out and head to his room. Michelle got out as well but held back. Al got out of the chair and started to follow Sam when the blonde stopped him. _What was her name again?_

"Al? That's your name, right?" she said stopping him from continuing.

Al considered her for a moment, puffing on his cigar. "Yes. I don't recall your name, however."

"Michelle Marshall. I don't think you were really focusing on meeting me when you were at the table this morning"

Al gave her a slight sarcastic smile. "Michelle... you're blocking my way."

"Al. This really isn't a good time. I know the two of you have been arguing. Sam's really confused about everything. I think you both could use a few days to find your bearings again."

"Well, he's not the only one. I want to know what the hell is going on in that noggin of his."

"I think it's going both ways. That's part of what's got Sam confused. It's bothering him. And if he's anything like he was 15 years ago, he's going to need some time away from the problem to figure it out for himself." She paused. "For whatever this means to you, I know he's feeling he's hurt you and doesn't want to keep doing that."

Al breathed what could have been taken as a disbelieving laugh. "He's hurt me? Lady, I think you've got that backwards." He contemplated his cigar for a moment. "I'm the one who's hurt him. I just want to talk to him. That's all. I want to explain..."

She shook her head. "From reading between the lines, I'd say that you've both been doing and saying things that are not typical for either of you. Just give him some time. Okay?"

"And do what in the meantime? Sit around and twiddle my thumbs?"

"I don't know. But I can tell you this. If you want to get things right between you, you both need some space right now."

Al frowned at her, his voice getting somewhat heated. "Just who the hell are you to tell me what I should or shouldn't do, huh?"

Michelle sighed. "Just an old friend who doesn't want to see him hurt. I know your friendship means a lot to Sam. He takes his friendships seriously. He always did and I know he doesn't want to lose yours."

Al sighed and rubbed his face before deciding that puffing on his cigar was a good way to keep himself from acting with conduct unbecoming an officer – a.k.a. hauling off and pushing this infuriating woman out of his way.

"All I want to do is apologize and get on with this hellish trip before anything else happens to him."

Michelle looked over to Sam's friend begging with her eyes to have him listen to her. "Then let it go for now. Nothing is going to happen to him. I'm going to be leaving in two days. You'll be able to talk then."

Al sighed. "Fine. Whatever. I don't know you from Eve but fine. I'll let him run off with you to have his little romp through your forest."

Sam walked out of his room, his luggage in tow. "Hi, Al," he threw over to him. He barely made eye contact before turning to Michelle. "I guess we should go. Let me put these things in your car and then I'll check out."

"Sam..." Al started when he heard his friend's terse greeting. Getting the cold shoulder, he took a step back. "I''ll... I'll be here." He turned and went back to the lawn chair. No sense in ruining a perfectly good cigar. But the cigar didn't taste as good to him as before. It was going to be two very long days for him.

_Saturday, August 28, 1993_

_7:20 a.m._

The drive to the Lodge wasn't far. They pulled in, parking the car next to the sedan. Sam made a beeline to his door, focused only on getting his things and checking out. He tried the knob; it came open right away. Al had been telling the truth. He couldn't believe that Al would hide that from him.

He entered the room and looked around. How had this weekend taken such a turn? He took down his shirts and started to fold them neatly. As he manipulated the shirt to minimize the wrinkling, he thought back to the start of the whole fiasco. All of this over the cables for the Imaging Chamber.

He began to examine Al's arguments as to why he hadn't ordered the cables before. He had to admit, if Al had ordered them before he gave his final okay on the design, they'd be way over budget right now, with cables useless for anything else. Those cables required special manufacturing processes and Al wouldn't have known that if Sam hadn't told him. He considered the concept he'd voiced that the schedule was enough and realized that Al probably had a point.

Sam frowned. Still, he could have done more than raise the issue. He could have pushed Sam to give him the final specifications earlier. Al had to know what a delay would mean to the project.

He'd almost finished packing when he heard Al's voice taking on a heated quality although he couldn't hear what he said. Sam quickly finished packing and headed out the door. He found Al and Michelle in conversation. He heard Al sigh.

"Fine. Whatever. I don't know you from Eve but fine. I'll let him run off with you to have his little romp through your forest."

Is that what Al thought of him? He guessed he couldn't blame him. After all, Sam had spent the last six years working on his project, trying to put the idea that he and the woman he loved would never be together out of his mind. Suddenly he was with Michelle.

But Al didn't understand. He and Michelle had been lovers back at MIT. She hadn't been the first woman he'd ever been with, but he'd felt something for her and seeing her again had lead to all of that flooding back to him. It had been so easy just to pick up where they left off. Still what Al said embarrassed him. He blushed profusely but pulled himself together to walk away gracefully. He couldn't look Al in the eyes though.

"Hi, Al." He paused and then turned to Michelle, "I guess we should go. Let me put these things in your car and then I'll check out."

After dropping the bags in the back seat, he started walking away towards the office. Michelle looked back and forth between Sam and Al and then started after the younger man.

He heard Al called out, "Sam..." His friend stopped for a moment and then said something Sam didn't catch. He figured it would just be the beginning of another argument so he didn't turn around and acknowledge it. He just couldn't face another fight right now.

When he got to the office, he quickly checked out and then he got in beside Michelle and they headed to breakfast.

Michael's Kitchen was crowded as always. All the good places had lines like these and this restaurant was no exception. The wait in the restaurant didn't take too much time and they were soon seated. Sam always wondered about the tables - the seats seemed a little too deep or the table too high - but the food made it all worthwhile.

"I'm getting the pancakes. How about you, Michelle?"

"Sounds good to me," she said, her mind mostly on the conversation that she had with Al. "He seems like a good man."

"Al?" Sam stopped a moment, thinking. "I've never had a better friend my entire life. That's why I'm so upset about this whole thing. I can't imagine us not being friends."

"Well, if it's any consolation, I don't think he can either." She gave him a gentle smile. "Don't worry. I'm sure that a couple of days apart will help clear the air between you two."

"I hope so, Michelle. I'm sorry I changed everything you had planned though. I mean, with you moving soon and all, you probably had things you wanted to do.

The waitress arrived and they ordered their pancakes. Sam got a cup of green tea and Michelle ordered coffee. They both got a large orange juice.

"Actually..." she gave him a wide smile, "you saved me from what was looking like a rather uneventful getaway. Now I can share my mini-vacation with a friend instead of all alone, dreading going back to do the last of the packing and moving."

Sam smiled. "I have to say, Michelle, I'm glad we met up again. It's funny we both ended up in New Mexico and so close to each other. It feels comfortable being with you again. Just like when we were grad students."

Michelle's smile weakened at his words. Grad school... that was a different time. She was sure Sam wasn't the same person any more than she was. But it seemed Sam didn't think that way. She shook her head mentally. She was probably imagining things. "Yes, it'll be a nice couple of days together."

Sam thought he noticed a slight discomfort in Michelle when he mentioned the last time they were together. However, it was just a split second and he figured he was just misreading her. "So, you want to go for a hike later? We could go up to Williams Lake."

Michelle looked thoughtful. He'd always found that one of the times she was most beautiful. "No. It's too late to go up in the mountains. How about we do that tomorrow morning? Today, let's just have a good time. We could even take a dip in the hot tub."

Sam nodded. "Okay. That sounds good. Then I'll take you to the best place in town for dinner." He paused. "At least I will after you take me to the bank after breakfast."

Michelle looked at him with raised eyebrows. "Why not just use your credit card at the ATM?"

"Um...well...I sort of don't have it anymore. I left it in Albuquerque. I'll just get cash."

Michelle looked at him incredulously. "You left your credit card in Albuquerque? Sam, that doesn't sound like you unless it were some kind of emergency."

"It was... I mean, you know how I told you that I picked up Al's drink and smelled it to see if it was alcoholic? Well, that's how I got this black eye. That's why I told you I deserved it. Al was upset with me and he decided to leave. I didn't have enough time to pack my stuff, so I handed the credit card to the manager to take care of things and left. I'm sure he'll handle it with integrity. It _is_ a Hilton."

"Ah..." she said with a nod. "Al sucker punched you." She grinned slightly at the sight. "You really do make quite a pair, you two."

The food arrived and the two got their pancakes to the point that they liked them. Michelle smiled at the way that Sam made sure the butter covered each layer of the pancakes and then put just enough syrup on to make them slightly sweet. At least in that he hadn't changed a bit since MIT.

Sam took a bite, chewed and swallowed before asking "What do you mean, Michelle?"

"Oh, it's just..." She thought for a moment. "Anyone who would hit his friend and then still go with them to Taos... well, it means they really care about them in the first place."

Sam nodded. "Hmm…I guess." He paused for a moment and then added. "I offered to let him hit me in the other eye as well. I guess he figured he'd rather go to Taos."

"He loves you," Michelle observed.

Sam looked down. "I love him as well. He'll never replace Dad or Tom, but his friendship helps fill the hole they left. I can't imagine not having Al as my friend, my partner. Hell...if it wasn't for him, my project wouldn't have even gotten off the ground."

"Then why are you arguing so much?" Michelle questioned. "If you feel this way about him, what brought about this horrible rift between you two?"

"I don't know. It's like one minute, everything was fine and then, all of the sudden, we can't get along."

"There has to be a particular moment that started it, Sam, even if it's small and seems minor. Do you leave your shoes out in the middle of the office floor?" she teased, remembering how he tended to not care where his clothing went when he was undressing.

Sam looked at her with a sarcastic grin. "No. I didn't leave my shoes in the middle of the office floor."

"Did he leave _his_ shoes in the middle of the office floor?" Michelle rephrased with a wide grin.

Sam shook his head. "Al's a neat freak. He'd never do that."

"A difference in opinion, perhaps?"

Sam thought about that. Yes the cabling was an issue, but it shouldn't have led to this level of argument. Sam and Al had disagreed before. "That might have been the trigger, but I don't think that's what caused this argument."

Michelle shook her head. "I don't have any more suggestions. But I can tell you one thing, Sam. Unless you figure out what caused this rift between you, it's going to hang over you two like an albatross."

The waitress came over noting that their plates were nearly empty. She'd been by one or two times before to refill Michelle's cup. "You two need anything else?" At the shake of their heads, she left the bill on the table and indicated they should pay at the front. They both nodded and thanked her before she walked off.

Sam took his wallet out and looked at the check. "I know. I hope this time away helps me to see how to go." He frowned and then looked up at her. "You got a twenty?"

Michelle chuckled slightly. "You really are poor at the moment, aren't you?" She stood up and pecked his cheek. "I'll take care of the bill." Snagging the paper from Sam, she went towards the front.

Sam took a last sip of his tea and laid down the tip, noting he had just enough to do that. He headed after her. "I can pay you back when we get to the bank."

Michelle shook her head. "You haven't changed much, have you? I said I've got it." She gave the cashier a twenty and waited for the change.

Sam looked at her sheepishly. "Well, I didn't want to take advantage of you."

Michelle chuckled. "I can't see you ever taking advantage of anyone, Sam." Accepting the change, she thanked the cashier and started for the door. "Who do you bank with?"

"First State Bank. I know they have a branch here in Taos. I...um...I used to use it a few years ago."

"Well, then, that's where we're going. And then, we are going to go investigate that jacket you said your friend was so desperately trying to force you into."

They headed out to the car on the North side of the parking lot. Sam looked up the road towards the El Pueblo Lodge. He hoped that Al was doing okay. He quickly quashed the thought that this argument could ruin their friendship. _Not if I can figure out the reason and fix it._


	6. Chapter 6

**THE OTHER SIDE OF LIFE**

**CHAPTER SIX**

_Saturday, August 28, 1993_

_7:50 a.m._

Al watched Sam ride away in Michelle's car, wishing that the scientist would reconsider his sudden departure from the El Pueblo Lodge. However, Al had to admit that Sam had good reason to up and leave. For one, his ex-girlfriend was a definite looker. If Al weren't a gentleman, he would have probably attempted to steal the blonde from Sam, especially since she owned one very tempting brand new emerald Pontiac Firebird.

But Al was a gentleman and, as tempting as Michelle was, he couldn't do something as low as steal his best friend's girl, no matter how yumola the girl and the car were.

Finishing his cigar, he sighed slightly and walked back into his room. Worrying about the younger man all night and then discovering that he was safe the whole time - and in the arms of a woman to boot! - had exhausted Al. Right then he realized that he looked like death warmed over and felt about as bad. A hot shower was definitely in order.

Stripping off the clothes that he'd slapped on the night before, he walked into the bathroom and started the shower, letting it heat up to the temperature he preferred before stepping in and letting the water help melt away some of the tension. But even the soothing ministrations of the shower's heat weren't enough to clear the confusion in Al's mind. He still didn't understand why Sam hadn't returned to the Lodge last night. And for him to shack up like he did was... well, it just wasn't like Sam! Sam didn't just take after women like Al did. And he certainly didn't seem like the kind to just hop into bed with an ex-girlfriend. Sure, Al hopped into bed with his ex-wife Sharon all the time! Well, at least when she sued him for more money. A lawsuit by that woman usually ended with a mutually consensual...

Al shook the thought from his head as he shut off the water and stepped out. "Okay, so the prudish prince has a fair maiden waiting in the wings. Or locked up in the tower." Al chuckled suddenly at the thought of Sam, dressed like a regal count, laughing maniacally as he went up a long circular staircase and opened the door to reveal a medieval princess cowering in the corner. Actually, he realized, Sam was more likely to be the knight in shining armor, riding up on a white stallion and sweeping the lady off her feet. Beckett had that effect on women and he didn't even appreciate it most of the time. Apparently this time, he'd figured it out.

"Too much Bela Lugosi, Calavicci," he berated himself as he dried off. He yawned loudly as he searched for an outfit to wear for the day. Nothing seemed to fit his mood at that moment so he opted for his brightest and most cheery outfit in his wardrobe - a lime green suit with a lemon dress shirt with cherry highlights. Yes, he looked like a fruit salad - a very edible and delicious one too. He went with a tie that combined all three colors in a Jackson Pollack design. The shoes he chose were cherry as well.

Al looked at himself with approval. Thank goodness for wrinkle-free polyester. A couple of trousers, a handful of coordinating shirts, a nice stylish jacket, a change of shoes, and a couple of ties and he was a swinger. The jacket matched the tie well, making it literally perfect for any outfit he chose for this trip.

Noting the time - it was nearing 11:00 - Al decided that lunch was in order, especially since he had forgone breakfast in his desperate search for his friend. His stomach was already protesting the missed meal. Since he wasn't as familiar with Taos as Sam, he picked the one restaurant he knew he would love. Don Fernando's Mexican was at the top of his favorite little stops whenever he went through Taos, which wasn't often.

Al picked up his keys to drive to the restaurant. The parking would be a pain but going anyplace closer just didn't strike his fancy. He left the room, making sure the door was locked and kicking himself mentally for not letting Sam know right off the bat that his lock hadn't been working. Seriously, what was he thinking?

Sam was right. Al couldn't have been absolutely sure the Kid would be safe. Was Al really so addle-minded yesterday to think that the chance wasn't there? Or perhaps he wanted something to happen so that he could leap up and save the day. Now, _there _was a ridiculous notion.

The drive was slow, being that he'd decided to take to the street in the middle of "rush hour." But once he'd arrived at his destination, he exited the car, anticipating a nice Mexican lunch to help get his mind off of the problems that had happened last night and, perhaps, throughout the whole trip. It would be nice to just get together with Sam and be friends again instead of biting off each other's heads within minutes of being near each other.

Walking into the restaurant, the hostess escorted him to a table. Sitting down and ordering a root beer, he looked at the menu and was deciding what to eat when a voice interrupted his reading.

"Um...excuse me...but weren't you one of the Apollo astronauts?"

Al lowered his menu and looked up at the man who was standing on the other side of the table. "Once upon a time," he admitted. "Who are you?" For some reason, he really wasn't in the mood to socialize but courtesy demanded that he at least talk a little with the curious man.

"My name's Ted Tanners. I was always a huge fan of the space program. Watched every launch and tuned in whenever there was something about NASA on TV. I still remember the day Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin walked on the moon. What a thrill! And the day you read from Genesis...well, it gave me a wonderful feeling the rest of the day."

Al found the menu much more interesting now. Every time Apollo was mentioned, so was the moon landing, something he never saw except in archive thanks to him being in a particularly nasty part of the world at the time. But when Ted mentioned him reading from Genesis, the nasty feeling dissipated in favor of the fond memory of orbiting the moon himself.

"I'm glad you liked it, Ted."

"You are an inspiration to the country."

Al noticed that the woman he had met the night before in the hot tub was walking across the floor. He noticed she was walking towards him and suddenly realized why. This must be her husband, Ted, whom she'd told him about the night before. She confirmed it when she walked up to them both.

"Well, isn't this a coincidence. Ted, Al is the gentleman I told you about last night."

"It's good to see you again, Sandra. So, this is your husband."

"Yes, he is. I'm glad you two met."

"You didn't tell me he was an Apollo Astronaut!"

Sandra gave him a shrug. "I didn't know."

Al looked at the two of them and made a decision. "Hey, have you two eaten yet? You can join me if you want." Al smiled. "Sandra and I are old buddies already."

Ted smiled as well. "She has that effect on people. I'm a lucky guy."

Al gestured to the available chairs. "Pull your stuff over and have a seat," he told them just as the waitress seemed ready to come over herself. While Ted and Sandra went to retrieve their drinks, Al made his order. They informed their waitress they would be moving.

"So, Ted, what do you do?"

"I work in electronic component sales."

"Like computer parts?" Al questioned. "Know the best way to tear apart a stubborn computer with an attitude?"

"Excuse me? Computers don't have attitudes. They just sort of sit on the desk."

"Say that when your hard drive keeps shutting down on you in the middle of an important report," Al teased, deciding that was the easiest way to get away from the minor slip that he'd made.

Ted laughed. "Yeah. That's happened to me a few times." He took a sip of his ice tea. "How about you, Al? You still with NASA?"

Al shook his head. "Nah, I'm just another Navy desk jockey these days," he fudged.

Sandra looked over to Al. "Did you ever settle things with your friend? I know you were concerned."

Seeing that his root beer had been delivered to him, he took a sip of it. He shook his head at Sandra's question. "If anything, it's getting worse."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I was hoping you'd be able to patch things up."

Al sighed. "Yeah... me too."

The waitress brought their three plates. Warning them that they were hot, she placed them on the table. Ted closed his eyes, breathing in the aroma of food. "God, there's nothing like Northern New Mexican cuisine."

"Don't have it often enough, I take it," Al commented as he lifted his fork and played with the rice on the plate for a moment. It had taken him years to be able to eat rice at all. And when he finally was able to, he could only stomach Mexican rice. Anything else brought back bad memories.

"No. Tex-Mex is standard in Dallas. But I love the green chili here. And the posole."

Al just nodded before taking a bite of his meal. He wasn't sure it was such a good idea to have invited the couple to eat with him. He didn't seem to be good company, in his opinion, at the moment. They didn't really have much in common that he could see.

Sandra had chosen a Taco Salad. "Well, I just wish we didn't have to eat so much Mexican food. But Ted just loves it so much, that's usually what we get."

"What would you rather eat?" Al asked.

"I love a good steak. I was raised on a cattle ranch in south Texas. Best damned meat around."

Al smiled at her. "As long as it isn't mooing anymore."

Ted finished his first bite. Noticing the ring on Al's finger he asked, "You went to the Naval Academy?"

Al nodded slightly. "Once upon a time, yeah."

Ted smiled, holding up his finger. "Me too. Class of '74 here."

That did catch Al's attention. "Pilot?" he asked with genuine interest.

"Nah. I had polio as a Kid. It was before the vaccine. A light case, but the residual effects kept me from being a pilot. I was on the flight crew on a carrier though. Knew a lot of pilots."

"Hey, at least you weren't stuck behind a desk," Al commented. "So what ship were you on?"

"I was stationed on the USS Nimitz when it was first commissioned."

Al had to stop eating, stunned into silence for a moment. "You... you were assigned to the Nimitz? What did you do right to get that commission? Holy macarel! She was the first nuclear-powered carrier ever!"

"I graduated Magna Cum Laude in Electrical Engineering."

Al raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Wow, top of your class! I was working on a minor in Electrical but certain events changed my mind and I just focused on Aerospace."

Ted blushed slightly. "Um, yeah. I think people make too much of that though. I mean, someone's going to have the highest GPA. But all the guys I attended with were pretty sharp. Is Aerospace what took you into the astronaut program?"

"In part. Didn't hurt that I had gotten a degree in Astrophysics beforehand." Al looked at Ted and noticed how he seemed to brush away his degree as if it weren't a big deal. The reaction reminded Al pointedly of Sam. "So, how long were you in the Navy?"

"I was in for twelve years. I would have stayed longer, but I met Sandra and she didn't want to travel from place to place and hated my being away for months at a time. So I gave up my commission and settled in Texas where she's from."

Al pondered his words for a moment, thinking about the years he'd spent in the Navy. He really couldn't imagine the Navy not being a part of his life, even now after he'd been retired for a few years. "You're a lucky man," he finally commented. "Sandra seems quite a lady."

Ted looked at this wife smiling. It was a smile that Al realized was one of a man thoroughly and hopelessly in love with a woman. "I always thought the Navy was the only place I wanted to be. But Sandra is everything I ever wanted in a woman."

_Maybe this guy is a little_** too** _much like Sam_, Al thought as he heard Ted speak so blatantly about his love for his wife. "Well, I'm glad for you," he told him honestly.

Ted looked once more at Sandra before turning back to Al. "So, what are you planning to do here in Taos?"

Al gave a little laugh. "Hadn't had anything specifically planned. This whole trip wasn't my idea. I suppose I can find something to occupy my time for the next two days."

Sandra looked to Ted and then back to Al. "Um... I hope you won't think me too pushy but I have a friend here in Taos and I think you two might hit it off. Her name is Yvette. I went to school with her at University of Texas at Austin. She lives here now."

Al almost chuckled at Sandra's words. "My dear lady, are you trying to set me up? Already?" Seeing her blush slightly, he relented in his teasing. "What the heck. I'm always in the mood to meet new and interesting people."

"Wonderful. We're meeting her for drinks and dinner at Doc Martin's at 7:00 pm."

"Sounds good," Al told her as the waitress brought the check.

Ted reached for it. "Let me get this. It's been an absolute honor to have lunch with a true American hero."

Al raised his hand. "First of all, if I'm a hero, so are you. We both served our country. Second of all, I know this isn't the last time we'll see each other in the next few days, especially since we are staying at the same hotel. I'm buying. If you insist, you can pick up a different tab."

Ted nodded. "All right, Al. It's just that going into space is such an incredible achievement. I did serve my country proudly and I'm thankful for that."

"I was just in it for the ride," Al commented as he pulled out his wallet and pulled out enough cash to take care of the bill.

Ted and Sandra got up. Sandra smiled. "We're looking forward to seeing you again tonight. I'm sure you'll like Yvette." They turned and left. Al watched as Sandra put her hand around Ted's waist and gave him a small hug.

Al strolled back to the car, deciding that perhaps another drive through the mountains might just be what he needed right now. Beside, since Sam wasn't with him, he could really give the car a test drive.

_Saturday, August 28, 1993_

_8:00 a.m._

Sam decided at the bank to get $200 in cash and another $400 in traveler's checks. He figured that whatever he didn't spend he could put back in the bank.

They headed down to the Plaza to look at the jacket. Finding a parking space across the Plaza, Michelle pulled in. They got out and Sam pointed to the store. Entering, Sam found the jacket still on the rack.

"I like it," Michelle stated bluntly the moment she saw it.

"Really? You don't think the fringe is too much?"

"It's a Southwestern jacket. It's supposed to have fringe," she chuckled as she lifted the jacket from the rack. "It's stylish."

"Hmmmm. I guess it's a nice one." He took the pro-offered jacket and slipped it on. It was like it was made for him. Exactly the right fit.

Michelle smiled widely at the sight. "Wow. Look out, ladies!"

He took a glance at the tag. It had been marked down to $275. "I don't buy much of this type of clothing. Is this a good price?"

Michelle looked at the price tag and smiled. "For a handmade leather jacket with detailed work like this, it's a pretty good price. They aren't overcharging, that much I can tell you."

Sam nodded. "Okay. I guess I'll get it then. I didn't get a jacket when I replaced the clothing in Albuquerque. I suppose I could use one if we're going to Lambert's tonight."

Michelle took his hand, not letting him remove the jacket. "I don't want you buying it unless you're sure and you can't be sure until you look at yourself in the mirror." She guided him to the full length mirror to the back of the shop. "There, take a look. I think you look great in it."

He went to the mirror she showed him and was delighted with the way it looked, even with the fringe. Hearing from Michelle that fringe wasn't too "over the top," which is what he thought Al was trying to push him into, made him feel that maybe "doing" fringe wasn't so bad. Now, looking at the jacket closer, he saw some subtle beading on the jacket that incorporated some green which set off his eyes. He twisted around to try to catch how it looked from other angles. The fit was exquisite in the way it hugged his torso but without any pinching. It truly was a perfect fit and had a certain ruggedness to it. Sam exclaimed, "This is a really nice jacket!"

He took the jacket off and walked to the sales clerk, Michelle behind him. "I'd like to purchase this jacket."

"Weren't you in the store yesterday with a man?" the woman asked, recognizing him.

"Yes. I was. Why?"

She gave a weak grin as if she made a determination that perhaps she wasn't sure of anymore. "Oh. No reason. I just remembered you didn't seem to like the jacket then."

"He just needed a second opinion," Michelle put in with a smile, putting her arm around Sam's waist.

The woman nodded and started to write up the sale. Sam suddenly stopped her. "Um... Can I see that bolo tie?" He pointed out the tie in question. The top had a six sided silver ring with turquoise pieces inlaid inside the ring. Two long silver lines descended from the ring and cross pieces completed the look. The bolo tie pieces were in black leather and the ends were covered in silver tips.

The woman pulled the bolo tie out. "I think it would look very nice on you."

"It's not for me. It's for my friend." He checked the price. It was normally $200 but had been placed on sale for $150. He figured it was reasonable. The moment Sam saw it, he wondered if he should give it to Al for Christmas. "What do you think, Michelle? You've seen Al. Do you think he'd like this?"

"It's beautiful. But I don't know Al, Sam. And from what I've seen, he doesn't dress all that well." Seeing Sam's startled look, she told him, "He was in a plain wrinkled shirt, wrinkled trousers, and shoes without socks when I met him."

"You saw him at a bad time. Normally, Al could walk out of the pages of GQ." He paused and then shook his head as if trying to picture that. "Well, he could if they were doing a spread on eccentric dressers. Al's stylish but unique." He paused another moment adding, "He was just worried when I didn't come back and probably just threw those things on when he went out to look for me."

The lady behind the counter raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. She just continued with her sales smile.

"Well..." Michelle considered the bolo tie. "What do you think? Do you think he'd wear it? It certainly fits the description of 'stylish but unique.'"

Sam picked it up and looked at it critically. "Yeah. I think he'd wear it. I just hope we're still talking to each other by Christmas."

"Hey, anyone who is as... discerning as you have described Al but still just throws on clothes in search of someone because he's a little worried... well... I'd say that you are closer friends than either of you realize. How can you not be talking to each other by Christmas?"

"I just don't know how this arguing is going to end. I mean, I've know Al for eleven years now. We had a rather rocky start, but we've been there for each other, at least for the past eight of those years. But now..." he trailed off, adding softly, "you've seen how it's been going."

"It'll be fine, Sam," she told him gently, touching his arm. "Buy the tie. He'll love it."

Sam nodded. He addressed the sales clerk. "I'm getting the bolo as well."

She smiled a knowing smile and wrapped the bolo in tissue paper, putting it into one of the stores printed bags. "Do you want to wear the jacket?"

It was rather warm and Sam didn't think that would be a good idea. "No. Would I be able to take it on its hanger?"

"Yes, sir. I'll just put a garment cover over it."

Sam found he had to use all the traveler's checks and part of the cash as well to purchase the items. "Uh… Michelle? You think we can go back to the bank? I should probably get some more traveler's checks."

"Okay, Sam. Then we'll head out for a light lunch."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

They finished the purchase and headed back to her car. Sam laid the jacket down in the trunk. They headed back to the bank and Sam obtained another $200 in traveler's checks. This trip had cost him quite a bit and most of it wasn't a cost he could allocate to the company, much less the contract they were on. Still, he'd invested the money he'd received when the Nobel Prize was awarded. He was mostly a frugal person and thus knew that the purchases wouldn't set him back too far. Coming back to the car, he asked, "So, where do you want to go for lunch?"

"The Chili Connection is good. Afterwards we could go to the Millicent Rogers Museum. They have an excellent collection of Maria Martinez's pottery."

Sam readily agreed and they headed up to the restaurant. They were seated on the patio.

Since they would be eating out that night, they decided to go light with appetizers and beers for lunch. Michelle ordered a Negro Modelo, Sam a Corona. For food they choose the Nacho's Supreme and the Hot Chicken Wings.

After the waitress left, Michelle turned her attention to Sam. "What did you mean by you and Al got off to a rocky start. Maybe that has something to do with the arguing, old wounds coming up and all that."

"I don't think so. What I meant was that I met Al as he was about to destroy a soda machine 'cause it took his dime. Al had an alcohol problem back then and I helped him through that."

"What year was that?"

"It was back in 1982. Al was the Government Contracting Officer for the project. With his job, there weren't a lot of times to socialize much but we did get to know each other and we've been best friends the past eight years."

The waitress brought back the beers. Sam's had a lime slice on the top. He took it and squeezed the lime against the side of the lip of the bottle and then pushed the juiced sliver into the bottle. He took a sip. "Anyways, after that project came to an end in 1987, I started my own company and I hired Al as a contracts expert. He was retiring from the military. One day, Al saw a sheet of my equations lying on a desk. To be honest, I didn't know that Al had a doctorate in Astrophysics. But he understood what my equations were pointing to. He found an error in the math."

"What error?"

Sam looked sheepish. "I divided by zero in one of the equations. Al caught it and showed it to me. When I fixed it, it's like it opened a whole new world. I asked Al to be my business partner and he agreed."

"So you've been working closely on this new project you can't tell me about?"

"Yeah. We have most of the building completed. Just a few more rooms and then we can start running. At least some of it can start into testing. I still have some programs to work on."

Michelle took a long draw on her beer. Sam was surprised she drank the darker beer. She hadn't back at MIT. Then, she usually drank Coors.

"It doesn't sound like there's anything in that history that should cause you guys to be fighting."

Sam nodded. He took a draw of his beer, looking thoughtfully. Finally he spoke. "Al and I have had disagreements before. But we've never really fought. This experience has been really difficult."

"And you've just been fighting over little things? How did all this fighting start?"

"Well, we have a schedule we developed. We'd finished one part of the project and were ready to start on another part. The materials needed hadn't been ordered, so we're behind now."

Michelle waited until the waitress had returned and delivered the appetizers before she continued with their conversation.

"Any idea why the materials weren't ordered?" she asked, picking up a nacho.

Sam had taken a hot wing and finished it. He was showing signs of being fidgety. "Hmmm, I… um… I may have been to blame. I mean, it was clearly in the schedule that we'd need the cables but Al pointed out to me that a schedule is not a requisition." He paused and then added, "But at the time, I was upset and I may not have really been willing to listen when he said it."

"And you blamed him at the time anyway," Michelle concluded gently. She touched his hand. "Must have been one heck of an argument for you two to still be at each other."

"That's just it. That shouldn't have lead to an argument. I should have been able to hear Al. I don't know why I'd say some of the things I said. It was like someone else was in my head. Like someone else was saying those things. But I know it was me."

Michelle sighed. "We all say things that we regret in the heat of a moment. Perhaps with a deadline, you were just under too much stress to think clearly."

Sam took another sip of his beer. He looked at the bottle and realized that he'd finished it. "Michelle, you've seen me under pressure. Hell, we were working on our graduate research project while I was interning at Mass General on little or no sleep. Did you ever hear me attack someone's personal integrity?"

Michelle sighed slightly, shaking her head. "No," she finally said. "Not once. But people do change and they don't realize it..." Even as she said the words, she knew that Sam Beckett just wasn't one of those kinds of people. Sam would always be the same man she knew at MIT.

"You think I've changed?" His eyes looked wounded.

Michelle gave him a slight smile. "No. Not you. I can't imagine you ever saying anything negative unless you had absolute proof. And you certainly wouldn't attack someone's integrity without solid and repetitious evidence."

"Then why did I do it to Al?" The wounded look had turned to anguish.

She sighed at that hurt look, the one that told her that Sam's heart was aching and he had no idea how to stop the hurt. "I don't know. I can't imagine what you're going through but I do know that if you are this hurt over it, you have to resolve matters with Al. He obviously means a great deal to you."

Sam nodded. "I know. I just don't know how."

The waitress walked by again asking if the two wanted another beer. Sam looked at Michelle. She still had a bit in her glass but she agreed. Sam ordered another round.

Michelle watched as Sam picked at the nachos. "Hey, maybe the best thing for now though is to let it go. If I know you, you'll keep working on the problem with the brain of yours. An answer will come. Just give it time."

Sam nodded. He turned to a different topic. "So, you're heading up to Los Alamos. Are you going to be living there?"

"No. Too hard to find housing. I'll be living north of Santa Fe. There's a new townhouse community there."

"What type of things are you working on?"

"Like you, Sam, I can't really say. Generically, it's dealing with computer optimization for weapons applications."

"Hmmm."

"You don't approve?"

"Well, I certainly understand the need for a strong military. My conversations with Al and also Dad and Tom before they died gave me that perspective. But I just wish we didn't have to do it."

"Yeah, I know. That is nice. But it's wishful thinking."

"I suppose."

"Believe me; I'd like nothing better than to eliminate all the weapons throughout the world. I don't think there is a single person involved with my project that wouldn't want that." She sighed slightly. "We just do what we have to keep our own people safe."

"I know. It's just that... I guess I've always been a dreamer. I always hoped that we could find a way to make the world a better place, where we didn't need to hurt each other."

"Aren't we all?" Michelle asked with a gentle smile, touching his hand.

Sam picked up her hand and pressed it to his lips. "It feels so good being with you, Michelle."

Michelle chuckled gently. "My, my! Aren't you the charmer!"

He smiled. "You inspire me."

Michelle gently pulled her hand away, the smile still present. "How?"

"I just feel really at peace with you. Like it used to be." He looked down for a moment. "I... uh... I haven't really been with anyone for the past six years. I was engaged but it didn't work out."

Michelle's heart ached for Sam upon hearing of his failed engagement. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Well, I guess things happen." He got a faraway look but then shook it off. "Hey, if you want to go to the museum, we should leave. I think they close at five."

"OH!" Michelle exclaimed before finishing the last of her beer and the remnants of the appetizer they'd ordered. Quickly standing, she smiled at him. "We don't want to get there too late."

He laughed. "I'm looking forward to seeing collection as well. But I do need to pay the check first."

Michelle laughed. "That would be a good idea, wouldn't it?" She sat back down.

He gestured to the waitress for the check which she brought over promptly. He quickly took care of the bill and then the two left to enjoy the Millicent Rogers Museum.

_Saturday, August 28, 1993_

_4:00 p.m._

There's nothing better than a long fast drive to take off the tensions of the day, Al thought with a smile as he pulled into the El Pueblo Lodge. He was greatly impressed with the sedan. Not only did the car hug the road like a pair of nylons to a woman's thighs but it really could get up there in the miles-per-hour factor.

Now, however, Al's attention was being pulled towards a change of clothes and a night out with his new friends, Ted and Sandra Tanners. He wondered what this lady he was being introduced to was like. He'd soon find out.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he decided that he wanted a more conservative look for tonight. If he was going to meet a lady, he wanted to look his absolute best. Taking off the lime green suit he'd had on all day, he carefully hung it up and then took out a pair of black trousers, yellow suspenders, a cherry red shirt, and an embroidered black tie. Once he was dressed, he looked at himself in the mirror once again and smiled. _Conservative yet with a unique style_, he thought with approval.

He locked the door to his room and headed out to walk down to Doc Martin's, the restaurant at the Taos Inn. He took his black jacket with him just in case. The weather was absolutely beautiful and he was feeling really good about tonight.

He found the Tanner's at a table on the patio. He felt a slight pang at the remembrance of the situation that had taken place on this patio earlier that morning. They had margaritas in front of them. There was an extra one on the table so Al figured that Yvette was most likely in the ladies room. Ted and Sandra called him over and gestured to the empty chair without a drink.

Al sat down with a smile, greeting the two graciously. As he did so, a waiter came to take his drink order. He ordered a club soda and lime before redirecting his attention to his hosts.

"Al, you're certainly looking cheerful!" Sandra said, smiling at him. "Yvette will be right out. She had to powder her nose."

"Well, it's a lovely evening with lovely people," Al replied. "Who wouldn't be cheerful?" Hearing that Yvette was close in returning to the table, he assured them, "I'm looking forward to meeting her."

Ted stated, "And here she is now." A gorgeous auburn haired beauty walked out. She was wearing a New Mexican ensemble that was classy and not overdone. On her finger was a turquoise ring and around her neck she sported a hand worked silver bead necklace.

Al watched as the woman came to the table, admiring the way she walked with confidence. _Beautiful and confident_, he thought with approval. _Wonder what else there is to her._ Standing up, he extended his hand towards her. When he received it, he kissed it in a gentlemanly manner. "Al Calavicci," he introduced himself. "I'm most honored to meet you."

Yvette smiled, almost blushing from Al's attention. "Yvette Samuels," she replied gently pulling her hand away. "Pleased to meet you as well... Al. I must say..." she raked her eyes over him carefully. "...Ted and Sandra didn't do you justice in describing you to me."

It was Al's turn to almost blush. Sure, he liked women of all kinds. But this one he knew was special indeed. Going to her chair, he pulled it out for her, allowing her to sit before resuming his own seat.

"So, Al, Ted tells me you used to be an astronaut. What do you do now?"

"Oh, I still work for the government," Al told her, a twinkle in his eye. "But it's all hush hush."

She raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow. "Interesting. We certainly have a lot of government work in New Mexico. Los Alamos, Sandia Labs, White Sands..."

"And what do you do?" Al asked, not letting the beautiful woman slip him up. Yes, he was a sucker for women but he wasn't a fool either.

"I'm an artist. I love the landscape of New Mexico - the subtle colors in the land and the brilliant skies. There's always something wonderful to paint."

"You know, I paint too," Al admitted. "But I'm probably not nearly as good as you are."

Yvette smiled. "What do you like to paint?"

Before he could answer, the waiter came by to let them know their table was ready. The foursome got up carrying their drinks with them. Just before they entered the restaurant, Al noticed Sam and Michelle out of the corner of his eye. He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the jacket that had caused so much contention resting comfortably on Sam's shoulders.

Sam and Michelle were heading towards the front door. Sam was looking at Michelle, engrossed in something she was telling him. He obviously didn't see Al.

Al turned and watched the two exiting the restaurant, a frown clear on his face. _I tell him he should get it; he tells me he doesn't do fringe. But this blonde bimbo gets him to buy it? _ He didn't want to admit it but he could feel the hurt that came from knowing that Sam trusted an ex-girlfriend more than him. "Fine," he murmured to himself. "Let him have it his way." One thing was certain, now. Sam Beckett didn't value his friendship as much as Al supposed. There was always that job opportunity that Michael Kiray had offered Al.

"Are you coming, Al?" Yvette was looking at him concerned.

Al rubbed his cheek slightly, as if he'd just been slapped, before turning towards Yvette and putting on a charming smile. "Absolutely. Wherever you want."

They had a table close to the street and Al noticed as Sam and Michelle walked by. Sam was laughing. Al suddenly realized it had been some months… no, years… since he'd seen Sam this relaxed.

He couldn't stay angry with Sam when he was so obviously happy. At the same time, it only made his own misery that much more noticeable. If he hadn't been in Sam's way all this time, maybe things would have turned out differently for the physicist.

Ted looked at the menu, declaring that it all looked good, but he was going to have a rib-eye. Sandra agreed. Al noticed that Yvette ordered the chili rellenos, but whether because she was vegetarian or just liked them, he didn't know. Since he'd had Mexican earlier and steak last night, he decided to go with the free range chicken. Sandra decided to order two bottles of wine, one red and one white.

After they'd ordered, Yvette asked again "So, what do you paint?"

Al let seeing Sam in the jacket slip from his mind. He didn't need to think about distrust right now. He was out with new friends and he was determined to have fun. So when Yvette repeated her question from before, he gave her his complete attention. "I like to do landscapes but I'm more of an abstract artist."

"I'd like to see your work sometime. Do you commission any?"

Al shook his head. "It's more of a way to clear my head."

Sandra spoke up. "Yvette has been in several juried shows. They have one of her pieces in a museum in Omaha."

The wine had arrived and the waiter opened the bottles. Al accepted a small glass. The rest of the diner's had a full glass.

"Really," Al commented to this new bit of information about his new acquaintance. "Well, maybe we should share notes on that. Seems to me you've hit the big time more than I ever will."

"Well, it is an honor to have a piece in any public collection. But I mostly just paint because I enjoy it. If others like the work as well, it makes me happy."

Al smiled. "That's nice." He gave a bit of a huff. "I doubt that anyone will ever see my work. It's more... personal."

"Painting always is. It's a way to let your soul fly free."

"Or to air the unwanted darkness of your soul without doing something completely illegal," he murmured mostly to himself.

The rest of dinner went by with various stories being told by all around. Sandra's story about the bull that got into the neighbor's prize cow's field took the best story of the evening, all were crying tears as she described the rancher's attempts to get the bull and cow away from each other. The kicker was that their offspring won first prize at the state fair the following year.

After the meal was finished, Ted and Sandra indicated they were going down to Eske's to listen to the live band. They asked if Al and Yvette would like to join them but Yvette suggested that she and Al just get coffee.

"You know, I like that idea better," Al told the married couple. "You two go ahead. Don't worry about Yvette here. I'll take good care of her."

Ted and Sandra left to complete their evening on their own. After they left, Yvette looked over to Al. "A few times tonight I noticed your shoulders tensing, especially early on. Is something bothering you?"

Al sighed slightly. "I have been a little tense lately," he admitted. "It hasn't been a good past two weeks and this little vacation hasn't been much of a vacation until I met you."

She smiled. "I appreciate that. You know, I am a masseuse on the side. Most people in Taos have a few things they do to live on the economy. Painting doesn't always cover the bills. I could take care of the tenseness for you. And for you, it will be gratis," she added, a gleam in her eyes.

Al gave her a little grin. "You know, that does sound better than coffee right now. This late at night it only makes me edgy." He offered her his arm. "So, where do you suggest we go for this session of physical well-being?"

"How about your hotel room? My house is up in the mountains. It would take awhile to get there and, after the wine, I figure I shouldn't drive."

"Well, then. A nice moonlight stroll to start," Al commented, offering his arm to her. When she took it, he started the escort up to his hotel and then to his room. Arriving about five minutes later to his door, they entered his room. Al didn't notice the green convertible that had pulled into the parking area just before he walked in behind Yvette into the room.

Yvette told Al to lie down. She apologized for not having her table with her but said she could do a pretty fair job with him laid out on his bed.

Al gave her a little smile. "Do you need anything for this other than me on the bed?" He carefully removed his jacket and hung it up before pulling the suspenders from his shoulders.

"Um, do you have any lotion or preferably oil?"

Al smiled gently at her words before digging into his toiletry bag. He pulled out a bottle of lotion and presented it to her. "Will this work?"

She looked at the bottle and nodded. "Yes, this will work."

"Good," Al commented with a smile as he sat on the bed to remove his shoes. "I have to tell you, I haven't ever had a massage. Well, not a real one, anyway. You know, people will loosen muscles but..."

"They're incredibly healthy for you. Not only do they release muscles but also stored toxins, gets the bad stuff out."

"Well, all I know is that if I tense up any more, you're going to be trying to massage a statue instead of a human being," Al joked as he removed his socks. "So, how exactly do you want me?" With a start, he realized that the lotion meant that Yvette intended to have him shirtless. He wasn't sure how she would react to the sight of his scars.

"Well, it would help if I could get to your back. That's where a lot of your tension is resting. Especially in the shoulders. Although," she reached out and touched him on his lower back, "You're probably holding some here as well."

"So... shirtless," Al said plainly but it was clear that there was hesitation in his voice.

"Is there something wrong?"

He exhaled slowly, deciding that the best explanation was to just show her. He undid his shirt and pulled it off before starting to pull off his t-shirt. "I just don't want to frighten you."

She watched as he removed his shirt, taking a sharp breath in as she saw the criss-cross of scars across his back. Tears came to her eyes as she asked, "Who did this to you?"

"Doesn't matter," Al told her, finishing undressing. "It was a long time ago." He licked his lips. This was why he never went shirtless. They always wanted to know how he got them.

She nodded. "I'm sorry." She wiped away her tears and took the lotion. Putting some of the creamy mixture in her hands, she rubbed it to warm it before gently reaching out to his shoulders. She felt the taut muscles below the skin and, suddenly, she was okay with the situation. She could tell her hands could take away if not the pain this man had felt in his life, at least the tension that showed up in the knots she currently felt. She started to massage along the length of the muscle, allowing the pressure of her hands to work the fibers. She asked if the pressure was too hard or too soft.

The feel of Yvette's hands on his back, the skill of those hands tending to the tension there, was almost heavenly. "It's perfect," he whispered to her, letting himself relax.

After several minutes, it was almost as if a valve had opened with those ministrations. Suddenly, and without realizing he had said the words, he murmured, "The Viet-Cong put them there." He almost winced at his words. Why he was confiding in a woman he'd just met, he didn't know. But he had to admit that it had felt good to tell someone.

"I wondered if it was from the war. What they did was monstrous. People shouldn't have to suffer like this." She had him lay down on his stomach and she worked the various muscle groups in his neck, shoulders, and back. As he became more relaxed, her touch started to change. She asked him to turn over.

Al turned over as instructed, displaying even more atrocities that had been inflicted upon him. But he didn't care anymore. It was nice to just have someone not immediately shrink away simply because he looked different without a shirt on. Oh, not everyone did. Sam didn't. His four wives didn't. A few girlfriends didn't. But most people just stared at him.

She ran her hands up his chest but this time pulled herself up as well. She allowed her lips to seek his, lightly brushing them as her hands continued to touch him, softly.

The kiss caused him to open his eyes for a moment to smile up at her. "You're a little overdressed, I think," he teased softly.

"Would you like to do something about that?" She pulled his hand to the buttons on her shirt. The movement was offering him the choice of unbuttoning her clothing. Al took up the offer with relish, though with how relaxed he was from the massage and from the kisses, he was having a little bit of a time concentrating on the actions of his hands. Eventually, however, he was able to push the blouse back. She continued to kiss his lips and neck as he slowly opened the fasteners of her garment. It was only a moment later that the skirt followed as well as the bra.

She allowed her hand to go to his waist and started to work on the belt he was still wearing. She took in a breath as his lips kissed her skin as the shirt was removed. They continued to remove each other's clothing until there was nothing left.

Once the last remaining article of clothing between them was removed, they were slow with each other, each savoring the feeling that each movement wrought. Yvette gave everything to Al and he in turn assured that she was satisfied. They continued into the night, eventually reaching a point where both were spent.

_Saturday, August 28, 1993_

_11:30 p.m._

Sam just stared at the door to Al's room. A thought crossed his mind. Another conquest. Sometimes he couldn't believe Al.

During dinner Michelle had convinced him that perhaps having a talk with Al could help clear the air between them. He'd come to realize that perhaps he had been unreasonable to expect the cabling would be available without his putting in a proper requisition. The other things he'd said he'd felt were uncalled for. However, watching Al now take a woman into his room brought back those thoughts Sam had when this trip had first begun.

"Well, I guess Al is still Al," Sam said to Michelle, frowning.

Michelle looked at him, her head tilted. "What do you mean by that?"

"Just that Al is seldom lacking female companionship, if you get my drift."

She frowned slightly at his words. "So? What's wrong with that?"

"Um... well... Al just seems to gravitate towards casual relationships rather quickly. I know he doesn't know anyone in Taos, so he must have just met this woman. And now they are sharing his room."

"How is that any different from what happened with us? Okay, we've known each other in the past but we haven't seen each other in years. And we're sharing my room." Michelle gave him a gentle smile. "Besides, maybe he'll be more receptive to you if he's had a little recreation."

"Al has way too much recreation as it is. And it is different between us. I mean, we had a relationship back at MIT. We're just rekindling it."

"And how can you be sure that he isn't in the same situation as you? You don't know for sure that he doesn't know her. I don't live here in Taos and yet we're together."

Sam considered Michelle's statement. The logic was unmistakable but he found himself irrationally wanting to believe his initial thought. He didn't really understand this. He'd known Al for eleven years and had known the man had engaged in multiple relationships, sometimes rather spontaneous ones. While he would not pursue such opportunities himself, he'd always figured with Al it was between two consenting adults and had accepted it. Why was he having such a hard time with that idea now?

Sam shrugged. "It's just bothering me for some reason."

"Sounds like that's another issue for you and Al to discuss."

"Hmmm. I guess." Sam looked thoughtful. "I just don't get why all of the sudden these things are becoming issues for us. We've been friends for so long. I've always accepted things that Al does, figured that that just part of who he is. He's always done the same with me. I just don't get it."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," Michelle assured him, starting the car again and backing up to return to the Taos Inn.

"I'll have to." He looked back to Al's hotel room door before turning to Michelle. "You're still up for that early morning hike to William's lake, right?"

Michelle smiled at the suggestion. "Wouldn't miss it!"

They headed back to the room. Michelle had started to snuggle against Sam but he was distracted. It was obvious the comparison between him and Al was weighing on his mind. Michelle gave him a kiss and rolled so her back was to Sam. He turned to hold her, spooning her. They fell asleep, both looking forward to the next day's hike.


	7. Chapter 7

**THE OTHER SIDE OF LIFE**

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

_Sunday, August 29, 1993_

_9:00 a.m._

The morning sun was up when Al opened his eyes to find Yvette still beside him, her auburn hair laying in multiple directions on the pillow. With his fingers, he gently teased the strands into a less chaotic configuration. As he was doing so, her violet eyes opened to him. "Good morning," she said smiling.

Al sighed at the sight of those beautiful eyes. "Good morning, yourself," he told her gently. "You know, I think you're probably more beautiful this morning than you were when I met you last night."

"I bet you say that to all the girls." She said teasingly.

"Not to all the girls," Al told her seductively, kissing her again. "Just you." He pulled her closer to him, liking the way she laughed as his wiggled his fingers against the sides of her belly. "Breakfast?" he suggested.

She kissed him back before saying, "Breakfast sounds marvelous. But I'd like to fix it for you. Maybe we can just get some coffee and then head back to my place. It's about 20 minutes from here."

"Sounds great to me," he told her honestly. "I haven't had a home cooked breakfast in years." Getting up from the bed, he started towards the bathroom. "We can share a shower if you want," he told her tauntingly.

She giggled. "It may take us awhile to get to the house, perhaps brunch would be better"

She stood up, following him to the bathroom. Al admired her as she sauntered in. She certainly had curves in all the right spots. "Brunch. Breakfast. If you cook like you walk... I may never leave the house."

Yvette gave him a kiss. "You okay now?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I don't know. You talked in your sleep after we finally fell asleep. You were talking to a Trudy. It sounded like you were talking to a child."

Al nodded. "My sister. She's been gone for years. Sometimes I still dream about her but I'd rather not talk about it, if you don't mind."

She shook her head. "That's okay, Al." She smiled. She watched as he turned on the water, checking the temperature before gesturing for her to go in before him. She stepped to the shower and he followed behind. She picked up the soap and ran it between her hands, working up a lather. She reached over to his chest and started the same type of movements with her hands that had lead to last night fireworks.

Al sighed with contentment. Last night's massage was miraculous on his tense muscles. This morning's shower was about as equal to it. But they couldn't stay all day in the shower, primarily because Al was starting to get hungry.

It took only a few minutes after they had actually dried off for the two of them to dress. Yvette put on the clothes she'd had on the night before, Al choosing another coordinated outfit. They headed out of the hotel room. "My car or yours," Al asked. "Are you planning on coming back into Taos tonight?"

"I could be persuaded to come back to town, with the right incentive." Her eyes were showing that she considered him to be such an incentive.

"How's dinner as an incentive?" Al asked, taking her hand and kissing it as he had the evening before.

"Sound's nice. How about Roberto's?" She stopped for a moment. "That's assuming he's open tonight."

Al laughed. "You mean you don't know?

"Well, Roberto sort of opens when he wants to. He figures he has a life and running the restaurant is just a part of it. So, sometimes he's open and sometimes he's not. But the food is always good enough to check."

"I think I like the man already," Al commented as he opened the door to the sedan. "Allow me to be your chauffeur for this day."

"Thank you, sir." She got in, putting on her seatbelt. She waited until Al had gotten into the other side and then gave him directions to her home. It was on the road to the Taos Ski Resort. Al was surprised that the house was not adobe but was more of a chalet style in an A-frame.

She got out of the car and walked to the front door, unlocking it. Al followed her into a two bedroom house. Along one wall, almost two stories's heading up to the loft, he saw her artwork. Beautiful vistas of NM were present on the wall and the way she painted the skies was nothing short of breathtaking.

"Wow! You did these?" Al exclaimed, completely stunned by the beauty that Yvette captured so brilliantly.

"Yes. I've been painting for about fifteen years now. I love it here in NM." She headed to the kitchen and opened the fridge. "How do blueberry pancakes sound?"

"Absolutely scrumptious," Al told her, his eyes still on the artwork. "You really capture the sunset here," he continued, pointing to one particular painting that showed Taos Pueblo in the distance. It had been painted from a view in the mountains. Most pictures he'd seen of the pueblo did not face west, but this one was unique.

"It took awhile to be able to actually get the feeling right. But I'm pretty happy with my technique now. I certainly sell more. It allows me to keep up my lifestyle here."

After dusting them with flour, she poured the fresh blueberries into the batter she had whipped up. She pulled a skillet out of the cabinet and put it on the gas stove top. While waiting for the skillet to heat, she quickly set up the coffee maker to brew some of the dark beverage she knew both of them liked. While it was brewing, the first pancakes were poured on the skillet. Once they were cooking, the plates and silverware were pulled out. Al watched as she put the silver out at two places and kept the plates close to the cooking.

"You do that like it's a ballet," he said appreciatively. "Can't I do anything to help?"

"Just plan on eating a lot of pancakes," she answered smiling.

He grinned and turned back to the pictures again to await the call to the table. "No problem there. They smell wonderful!" He looked over a few more, then forced himself to turn from the paintings and to go into the kitchen to face Yvette. "You should send me your portfolio. You might get another sale." He grinned at her widely. "Wish I could paint like you. You're really good."

"Do you like any of these?" She checked the pancakes and realized she had a little more time before they were done.

"Oh, I'd have to take a little time and really look at them. I like them all a lot." As he looked around, he noticed one painting in particular that looked familiar. "Wait a minute. Are those the San Andres? Looks like it's a view from Trinity Site."

She smiled. "You're very perceptive. I painted that from a picture I took during one of the weekends they allow visitors on the site." Checking the pancakes, she flipped them over.

"It's beautiful," he commented. _And it looks right towards PQL_, he thought with a smile.

"Take it. It's yours." She retrieved the butter, cream, and syrup and put them on the table. Afterwards, she pulled the orange juice out of the fridge. "You want some of this?"

Al's attention shifted towards Yvette at her words. "Please," he replied. "How much?"

"No, really. If you like it, I'd like you to have it." She poured the orange juice and put the first set of pancakes on a plate. She set the plate and orange juice down at one of the places. "Now sit down and have some breakfast."

Al looked at the painting again before turning towards Yvette with a slight grin. "Thanks. Oooo! That looks good."

She poured out some more pancake batter and waited until those were done before getting her own plate. In the meantime, she poured two cups of coffee.

Al sat at the table and looked at the plate before picking up his fork and digging in, minus syrup or butter. "Oh, these _are_ good!" Al complimented.

She smiled back at Al before sitting down and answering, "Thanks. It's my mother's recipe." She took a sip of her coffee and then asked, "Why did that picture capture your fancy?"

"It's just... I've always loved that view."

"You sound like you know the area well."

"Oh, you know... being military and all..."

"I guess. I just like traveling around NM for inspiration. So... what brought you to Taos this weekend?"

"Team-building exercise from hell," he told her with a sigh before he took a drink of orange juice. "My partner and I have been sent away to resolve our differences, forced into exile from work that will reshape mankind."

"Reshape mankind? That sounds pretty grandiose!"

"Oh, it is. But I can't tell you any more," Al told her. He smiled widely. "It's a secret."

"Okay... but it sounds intriguing! Who's your partner?"

"Dr. Sam Beckett," Al told her. "We don't have much of a partnership going right now. Seems we can't get within two feet of each other for more than five minutes before we start verbally ripping off each other's heads off."

"You don't mean the Dr. Beckett who wrote the article about linguistic patterns in the comparison of ancient languages?

Al chuckled. "I forgot he even wrote that." Al wasn't even sure he'd ever known Sam had written it. He suddenly realized that as close as he was to Sam, there were parts of the man's life that he'd never really known. After all, Sam was more than a physicist and computer whiz. He also spoke multiple languages, was known in archeological circles, had an M.D. and could play piano like no one else he'd ever heard. The fact that this woman had apparently heard of him from something other than physics was intriguing.

"That was one of the pivotal theories in looking at how concepts seem to cross through common formats in linguistic patterning. He pointed out, based on the tracing concepts through disparate cultures, how often thoughts seem to pass from one culture to another, almost through brainwaves."

"Artist, masseuse... linguistics fan?" Al questioned with a slight grin. "The pattern doesn't quite work, there, darling."

"Oh... that was my old life. I was a professor of Hearing and Speech at the University of North Texas in Denton. I decided after several years of teaching that what I really wanted to do was work on my art, so I moved to Taos. That's where I learned to become a masseuse. After all, one has to pay the bills and there's not much need for my academic skills here."

"Well, you could work at the University of New Mexico."

"Not and live in Taos. The satellite programs don't focus on that subject and the main campus is in Albuquerque, 3 and 1/2 hours away. No becoming a masseuse was good. I get to help people that way." She stopped and took a sip of her coffee. "But it doesn't mean I don't keep up with reading about linguistics. As I said, Dr. Beckett's work was quite cutting edge."

"Glad you're impressed. Maybe I should introduce him to you."

"I'd love to meet him. Why are you fighting again?" she asked taking the conversation back to where it had been.

"Oh, a misunderstanding over a requisition. It started out as a misunderstanding anyway. It's sort of snowballed into a continuous argument over our various personality differences."

She looked at him slightly confused. "You don't seem like someone that would let personality differences become a problem. And from what I've read of Dr. Beckett's work, he seems pretty open to other ideas as well."

Al nodded slightly. "Normally he is." He huffed. "Normally so am I. But for some reason, we now can't agree that the sky is blue."

"How long have you known each other?"

"Eleven years last March," Al told her, again drinking from his orange juice.

"That's quite some time." She noted that both of them hadn't touched their pancakes for quite awhile. "Are you finished, Al?"

Al nodded, handing over the plate. "Yes. Thank you. They were delicious." He stood up from the table and again looked at Yvette's artwork. The colors were absolutely stunning to him. "I wish I could paint like you."

She started clearing the table. "Each of us has our own special talents. Art was one of mine. That's why I just wasn't happy with teaching. I had to get out and paint what I saw." She finished rinsing off the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher. Finishing, she came over and put her arms around him. "I know you have talents as well. I mean, you've been up in space. Very few people on the planet can say that."

Al grinned at her words and looked into her eyes. "Few people have hands like yours," he told her cheerily. He started to pull her out of the kitchen. "Come on. I want to see your studio."

She smiled and took him by the hand, leading him to the room where she painted. After showing him around, they ended up on the couch that looked out towards the mountain view.

_Sunday, August 29, 1993_

_7:00 p.m._

Sam held the door open for Michelle as they entered a little adobe building off the main street. As he walked in, he noticed Al and the woman he'd seen him with the night before sitting at a table. He decided that perhaps Michelle was right. Al may have known her before. They sure seemed to be comfortable with each other.

Al looked up and saw Sam and Michelle enter the establishment. Yvette must have seen the look on Al's face because she stated, "That's Dr. Beckett, isn't it."

Al sniffed slightly, forcing himself to ignore the sudden reaction he'd felt to seeing Sam walking in with Michelle. He didn't know why it bothered him so. Hell, he usually was trying to encourage Sam to enjoy the companionship of a woman. "Yes, it is," he finally answered, deciding that the glass of water in his hand was most interesting.

"Why don't you invite them over? We have room."

Al paused and looked at Yvette with questioning before looking towards the couple. "They look fine on their own."

"I guess if you're still fighting, you probably wouldn't be comfortable. Forget I asked." Yvette said it with a smile but he could tell she had really wanted to meet Sam. After all, they did share a passion for one of his fields of study.

Al shook his head at the expression on her face. "No, it's okay. We have to start acting civil with each other sometime, right?" Slowly, he stood up and then kissed her cheek. "I'll be right back." Then, with slight hesitation, he went over to Sam's table. "Hey," he greeted.

Sam looked up at his friend. He and Michelle had had a long time to talk during their hike earlier that day. All Sam knew is he wanted to get things back to the way they'd been before last Wednesday. "Hi, Al."

"I... uh... I noticed you come in and was wondering if you'd care to join us," Al said quickly before he could find a reason to change his mind. He was getting tired of feeling as if he couldn't approach Sam without getting into a fight. He just wanted to make amends, one way or the other.

"You sure?" Sam's voice held both the sound of hope but tinged with uncertainty.

"Sure, I'm sure," Al said with a little grin. "Let's just put all this ridiculousness behind us."

Sam looked over to Michelle. She nodded. She knew that this weekend had been bothering Sam badly. "Sure, we'll join you."

They let the waitress know they were moving. She set two more places at Al and Yvette's table.

Al escorted the couple back to his and Yvette's table. "Yvette Samuels, this is Sam Beckett and his friend Michelle Marshall."

Sam took her hand. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am."

"It's such a pleasure to meet you as well. I've read your work in linguistic comparisons. Quite exciting work."

"You've read…"

"Yes, I'm Dr. Yvette Samuels. I used to teach in the Hearing and Speech Department at the University of North Texas in Denton. I found your work fascinating."

Michelle looked over to Sam, "When did you start working on linguistics research?"

"Um, remember when I left for Cambridge with Dr. LoNigro?"

"Yeah. You said you had some academic pursuits."

"Well, I got two more doctorates while I was there in Archeology and Linguistics."

Michelle looked down at her fingers, counting. "Before you got into the Computer Science program, you had doctorates in Physics and Music. Then you got the Computer Science and M.D. Now I hear you went and earned two more." She looked at him, incredulous. "Sam, that's six doctorates!"

Sam blushed. "Um, yeah. I guess I just really felt comfortable in school…"

Al grinned, "He was working on another one in Electrical Engineering when he got hired on the government project…"

"…where I met you," Sam finished, nodding.

The waitress came over and took their orders. Yvette, knowing the food at Roberto's, made suggestions and the order was taken in little time. Afterwards, Yvette turned to Michelle. "What do you do, Michelle?"

"I'm a Computer Systems Engineer. I worked with Sam during our graduate work at MIT. I'm going to be working at Los Alamos a week from now on a new project."

"I see. Sounds interesting."

Al added, "Yvette is an artist as well. Sam, you should see her landscapes. They are stunning!"

"I'd love to see your work sometime, Yvette," Sam commented. "If Al says they are stunning, I'm sure I'd like to see them."

Yvette nodded. "So what did you and Michelle do today?"

Sam smiled. "We took a hike up to Williams Lake. It's beautiful up there. Have you ever been?"

Yvette smiled gently. "I did a painting of it. It's one of my favorite places. Al?"

Al shrugged slightly. "Never been there. But I'm sure we could find a moment sometime to do that," he told her with a winning smile.

"So what did you two do today?"

"Oh, Yvette invited me up to her home to look at some of her artwork and then she showed me the best way to use finger paint on a canvas."

Sam looked over towards his friend, his eyes narrowing at the suggestive tone to Al's voice..."Finger painting...?

"Yeah, finger painting," Al emphasized. "You know... paint, canvas, easel, making art without the use of paintbrushes."

Sam looked a little sheepish. He couldn't understand why his mind had to assume that Al would be talking about something else. "Um... was that fun?"

"It was a blast!" Al exclaimed excitedly.

Yvette grinned. "Al's really a very talented artist. If what I saw was any indication of the work he has hiding in his home, I can't wait to see his artwork!"

"You paint, Al?" Sam face showed surprise as he questioned this statement.

Yvette looked over to Al and then back to Sam. "You didn't know he painted? I thought that..."

Al took a sip of water to cover for a moment, preparing for Sam's reaction to the upcoming answer. "When I was fifteen. Between acting jobs."

"I guess I don't know Al as well as I thought I did." The statement was said neutrally but the words held a hint of hurt that Al wouldn't tell him about it.

Al sighed slightly. "I didn't think you really wanted to get into all of my deep dark secrets. You keep secrets too, you know. Everyone does. Doesn't mean anything. Right?"

"I guess." Sam took a sip of his water, his eyes down as if thinking.

Al frowned at the answer. He knew that tone too well. "Ah, come on, Kid. Don't be that way. The subject never came up so I never mentioned it. No big deal."

The waitress came over with her tray. She reminded everyone the plates were hot then finished putting food before them checking to see if there was anything else she could do. Hearing a negative to that concern, she left to serve her other tables.

After she left, Sam turned the topic. "Gee, this all looks great. I'm really hungry!"

Michelle was a bit surprised at the way Sam reacted. She decided to probe a little bit. "So, Al... what type of art do you do? Landscapes, abstracts?"

"Introspective," Al told her, cutting into the steak he had ordered. "I don't exactly have a particular style. I just... paint what I feel at the moment. Sometimes it looks like a landscape, sometimes it's abstract, sometimes cubist..."

Sam seemed to be struggling with something. A second later, he announced, "If you'll excuse me, I'll be right back." He got up and headed to the restroom.

Michelle watched him as he left. It wasn't like Sam to get up like that and leave. If she'd realized one thing, it was that Sam was pretty consistent with his behavior. Sure, there were some changes since they'd parted company those 15 years before. Still, he hadn't changed all that much. She figured that based on the flash of expression she'd seen cross his face before he left, he was trying desperately to control himself from saying something.

Al frowned and watched Sam practically bolt. Sam's reaction to his painting wasn't at all normal for his friend. "What's eating him?" he murmured.

"Could this have something to do with your disagreements this weekend, Al?" Yvette seemed confused at the reaction the two remaining people at the table were having.

Al thought for a moment and then shook his head slightly. "Maybe." He sighed.

"I think there might be something to that, Al. When Sam and I talked this weekend, he said that both of you are acting uncharacteristic," Michelle said, still trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

Al looked at her with surprise. "Is that what he said?" he asked, showing signs of annoyance.

"Yeah. All I know is that before coming to dinner, all he talked about was trying to get things back to normal."

The annoyance that had started to creep up had subsided with Michelle's words. "Well, there's one thing we both agree on." He chuckled slightly. "Imagine me agreeing with Sam after the mess this weekend has been so far. It's like... I don't know. Maybe we've got our wires crossed or something. I mean, there are times when I think Sam's completely incapable of taking care of himself when I know that he can."

Yvette looked strangely at Al. "The man has six doctorates. That takes a lot of commitment. Why would you question his ability to take care of himself?"

Al shrugged, looking completely lost. "I don't know. I honestly have no clue why I've reacted the way I did when I met you, Michelle. I guess maybe I was... scared he'd gotten hurt or..." He didn't go further. After all, Naval officers didn't admit to weaknesses like the fear of someone, even if he were only talking about his best friend, leaving them.

"I know that Sam's having a lot of the same confusion. He's not sure what's happening on his side either." As she was speaking she noticed Sam walking back to the table. His hair was slightly damp around the edges as if he'd splashed water on his face. She had seen him do this back at MIT. Usually when he'd come off of his shift at Mass General. If the shift had been stressful, he'd have the same pasted smile he was showing now. If he was doing that, she was sure he was trying to hide how he was really feeling.

Al looked across at his friend, concern on his face. "Sam, are you okay?"

Sam nodded, his voice softly stating, "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine," Al told him. "More like a Mack truck hit you and you're trying to make it look as if nothing happened."

Sam tried feebly at humor. "Well, maybe I'm just trying to keep my secrets."

Al sighed at the feeble attempt. "You aren't very good at it," he murmured a bit angrily. Chewing on a piece of steak, he drank a large gulp of water to wash it down.

Sam pursed his lips and dug into his own food. Yvette and Michelle looked at each of the men and then at each other. Even to them, things seemed off. It was as if, through the evening, the situation had gone from a pleasant evening to something else neither could put their finger on.

After the main course was finished in silence between Sam and Al, the women having gotten into their own conversation, Al was the first to speak of the two. "Dessert?" he suggested.

Sam looked over to Michelle. She shook her head. "Not for us, Al. Let me get this bill and then I think Michelle and I are heading out."

"Fine. Be that way," Al murmured mostly to himself. "Have a good night, then."

Sam fidgeted. "See you tomorrow morning?" It was a simple question but held a bit of searching in it as well.

"I suppose," Al replied. "Don't know what we'll be doing."

"Okay. I'll see you then. Yvette, It was a pleasure to meet you." Michelle also indicated that she was glad to have met Yvette.

Yvette stood and shook both Sam's and Michelle's hands. "A pleasure to meet both of you. Have a good night."

Al watched as Sam took care of the bill with the waitress. He was feeling a bit depressed. Tonight hadn't gone at all like he'd hoped. He and Yvette finished off with some coffees and flan and then they too left.

_Sunday, August 29, 1993_

_9:00 p.m._

Michelle and Sam walked back to the Taos Inn. It was only a few blocks but Michelle was concerned that Sam wasn't saying anything. Finally, once they got to the hotel, she asked, "Sam, what was going on back there? Things were going so well at the start and then... well, I'm not sure what I saw there."

"I know. It's like there was a feeling... I can't really describe it. I started thinking about what Al was saying and it seemed to twist in my mind. The closest thing I can think to describe it as is like nails scraping across a blackboard."

Michelle frowned slightly. "He talked about finger painting, Sam. Unless you have something against that form of art, I can't see how that's anything even similar to nails on a blackboard."

Sam looked lost. Even he knew how insane his explanation sounded. "It was the way he said it, Michelle. It was like there was something more he wasn't saying." He blew out a breath. "I know. It's crazy. Maybe I'm losing my mind!"

They continued back to the room. Michelle stopped and pulled out the key. She opened the door and the two went into the room. She reached out and touched his arm. "I don't think you're losing your mind, Sam. There has to be some explanation for all this. Now, tell me again how this all started. We'll go through the whole thing step by step."

"I don't think I can right now. The feelings are still there and I want to calm down first. How about taking a dip in the hot tub? Maybe that will alleviate some of these feelings."

Michelle smiled gently. "That sounds perfect." She carefully started to undo her blouse.

Sam looked over to Michelle and noticed an immediate physical reaction to her undressing. He closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed. Thinking back through the weekend, he was suddenly amazed that he was here with Michelle. Yes, they'd been lovers before and he felt that this weekend had somewhat rekindled what they had experienced 15 years before, but this was not his usual way of dealing with things. He knew he had to talk with her about their relationship before continuing. He went over to his luggage and retrieved his trunks and stepped into the bathroom to change.

Michelle was just finishing putting on her swimsuit when Sam came back out of the bathroom. "You weren't shy about seeing me change my clothes this morning," she commented with a little grin. "Same Sam Beckett... always a mystery."

"I... I know. I'm not sure what's going on right now. Let's get in the hot tub and maybe I can explain part of it."

She looked at him with almost motherly eyes as she realized just how confused and lost Sam seemed at that moment. "Okay," she told him. Making sure that she had the key to the room, she guided him out and towards the pool area. "A relaxing soak will do us both good." Crossing the courtyard, Sam adjusted the jets and they both got in. No one else was there.

Sam started. He seemed a bit fidgety. "Michelle, this weekend has been absolutely wonderful. I find that I care as much for you now as I did all those years ago. It's like time stopped and picked back up again." He paused a moment and then added. "That's why I pulled back a little. I need you know I'm not leading you on." It was almost as if Sam had regressed to the night they had met again, as if the ensuing two nights and days hadn't been enough to convince him that she was comfortable being with him.

Michelle chuckled slightly at his concern. "Sam, if anyone's doing the leading this weekend, it's me. I've really enjoyed being with you. Honest. Now, why don't you just relax and let those bubbles do their work."

Sam smiled. "They do feel good. But Michelle, I'm trying to say that I don't want this weekend to end. I was thinking that maybe we could keep going with the relationship that we've found again."

She looked at him for a long moment, thinking about his words. "What do you mean?" she decided to ask, not wanting to make any assumptions.

Sam turned towards her and lightly placed his hands on her shoulders, looking deep into her eyes. His eyes were soft as he told her, "I mean that I find that I'm feeling like I did fifteen years ago, before you left for Kentucky and I left for Cambridge. I want you with me. I can make that happen. My project needs..."

"Stop right there!" Michelle exclaimed, sitting upright and shaking his hands off her shoulders. "Just who do you think you are?" To Sam's stunned expression, she continued. "Now, I don't mind the idea of getting together with you occasionally for a little fun but you've just gone right over that to us being practically engaged again! We don't even really know each other anymore, other than what we've learned in the past two days!"

Sam looked down. He fumbled with his hands, not knowing what to do with them. He'd been so sure this was the right path "I...I just thought...I mean...I..." He stopped and shook his head. "I guess I just keep messing things up."

"And why do you do that?" Michelle added upon Sam's comment. "You act as if this is something you can control with a wave of your hand!"

His eyes came up to her again, true pain flowed from them. "I don't think I can control anything. I just figure there must be something I'm doing wrong. I'm not exactly the greatest guy with women." He muttered underneath his breath, "That would be Al."

Michelle sighed. "Oh, Sam, it's not you. It's me. I mean... Look. You obviously got the wrong impression with me during this weekend and that's partially my fault. You're the kind of guy that once you're ready to give your heart out to someone, you do it completely and totally without stopping and thinking about the consequences. That isn't a bad thing... it just isn't for me."

A small smile was on his lips as he stated his truth, "Michelle, the impression I have of you is a lovely, caring, intelligent woman. I know that isn't wrong. You are all those things. Am I wrong to want to continue a relationship with you?"

"Thank you but that isn't what I'm talking about," she told him plainly. "I do care about you. I'm just not interested in the kind of relationship you are talking about. I've been down that road one too many times and I'm not ready to go down it again. Not for a long while. Maybe never again."

"You've been down…" Sam looked at her confused.

Michelle leaned forward, seeing his confusion. "I'm not ready to get into a relationship that may lead into another marriage that will only end up in divorce because we can't seem to figure out whose career should take precedence." She exhaled slowly. "I met someone when I was in Kentucky. We married and then we divorced because he wanted me to give up my career for his. And it seems like you want me to do the same. After all, you talked of making things happen so that you can be with me."

'I'm sorry, Michelle. I didn't know. But I'd never expect you to give up your work. I was going to say my project needs top notch computer engineers. You'd be perfect."

Michelle gave a sick laugh before getting out of the hot tub and grabbing a towel to dry off.

"Where are you going?"

"Back to my room," she told him bluntly. "It's obvious you and I have completely different ideas about careers. Geez, you're just like Jake," she muttered under her breath.

Sam softly cajoled her, "Michelle. Please don't go. I'm sorry. I won't bring it up again. I just thought... but I guess I was wrong. I can't help it that I care for you."

"Damn right, you were wrong! I already have a career, Dr. Beckett! I already have a job! I don't need you to go finding me one!"

Sam acquiesced. "I know you have a job and a career, Michelle. I just thought we made such a good team together before, we could do so again. I promise. I won't bring it up anymore."

Michelle looked at him for a long moment before returning to the hot tub's edge. "I have my own career. I have my own life. I like being with you, Sam, but you have to realize that I'm not ready for a commitment nor am I going to give up my important work." That said she slowly slipped back into the tub.

He nodded. "Okay. I understand. We'll leave it at that. But, since we've reconnected, can we at least stay in contact with each other this time? I mean, you're only three hours away. And I wouldn't mind talking with you professionally either. It wasn't a false compliment that I know you are a top-notch computer engineer. It may have been 15 years since I worked with you, but I know the quality of your work, the insight you bring to the field."

Michelle's lips slowly curled into a smile. "Thanks. Maybe I overreacted. I'm sorry. And I'd love to keep in touch with you so... you've got a deal."

"Okay. Would I be out of line to ask if I can still hold you?" He indicated a desire for her to lean back into his arms.

Michelle's grin widened. "Didn't I just say I like being with you? If it weren't okay with me, you'd never have done so all weekend." She deliberately went to him and kissed him before nestling where Sam had indicated.

He sighed. At this point, he was still feeling rather saddened that Michelle had decided to forego the possibility of furthering the relationship into something deeper. Still, he was enjoying his time with her and at this point knew for certain that neither was abusing the others sensibilities. They were simply two consenting adults enjoying their time together. He decided to leave it at that and enjoy the time they would still have together before Michelle left the next day. Besides, Sam thought as he gently positioned Michelle's face to kiss her, he was still a man who very much wanted to be with this woman and he found he was willing to accept her terms for that liaison.

_Sunday, August 29, 1993_

_9:30 p.m._

After Al and Yvette left the restaurant, they found a place to drop off the film they had used to photograph their finger painting session. Yvette often used film in her art and had a nice photographic setup. Learning that the prints would be ready the following morning, they headed back to Al's hotel room.

They decided that before turning in they'd head out to the hot tub. Yvette had brought an overnight bag with her which included her swim suit, a two piece that looked stunning on her. It took awhile for them to finally reach a state where they were both dressed for a public pool area. Somehow, getting dressed for the hot tub had taken a detour which both had thoroughly enjoyed, certainly as much as the painting session earlier.

Yvette slipped into the tub first, Al following behind her. After they were settled, Yvette turned to Al. "You know there is still that elephant sitting in the room."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do. What happened in the restaurant tonight?" She gave him a gaze that indicated she expected an answer.

Al hoped she wasn't asking what he thought she was asking but figured that was just wistful thinking. Still, he tried to deflect it. "You want to be more specific?"

She smiled knowingly. "You and Dr. Beckett… Sam. You started off great and then you both started… I don't know… mirroring each other."

"Mirroring?" Al was surprised. He was slightly confused at the term.

She nodded. "Yeah, mirroring. It was one of the strangest things I ever saw. It eventually got so it was almost a dance. Like a carefully choreographed dance."

Al was totally confused now. He couldn't imagine what she was talking about. He felt he'd suddenly seen Alice's White Rabbit and had followed it down an unfamiliar hole. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She paused, seeing the look on her new lover's face. "You really don't see it, do you?"

Al was intrigued. Something had been nagging the back of his mind almost since this trip from hell began and hearing Yvette's words caused him to consider the discordant feelings he'd been having. Thinking back, they had started a couple of days before they'd left the project. During the next few days, the feeling of something being wrong had continued to escalate until Sam had taken up with that hussy. For the past two days, things had seemed if not normal, at least not as antsy. Until tonight. Then those feelings had reemerged with a vengeance.

Al's head tilted and he requested, interest painting his face, "Tell me about what you saw."

She paused, obviously thinking how to explain it and then started. "Well, if I was back to the clinical and academic studies, I'd say somehow the two of you are on a separate communications portal. It's like you are both tuned into something that no one else can see or hear."

Al chuckled slightly. "So, we're losing our minds?" he questioned with a small grin.

She shook her head, smiling. "I didn't say that. I said that there is something definitely going on and it doesn't fit typical communication theory."

"Well," Al started, lowering himself a little further into the hot tub, "you've got me on that one. There's definitely something going on but I'll be damned if I can figure out what that something is."

"Hmmmm," she started. "Well, we're not going to solve it tonight." She turned the conversation. "You know, I really enjoyed myself today. I can't wait until we get the pictures back tomorrow."

Al gave her a little smile, remembering the afternoon before. "I'm just amazed that you were able to find edible 'paint' for our artwork."

"Oh... it's not that hard to do. After all, foods come in every color." She smiled wickedly. "You know, you're quite the Picasso. I especially like the little twirls you put on my..."

Al finished the sentence for her saying "...beautiful back."

"Yeah... and when you licked them off the same way you put them on... it made my knees weak!"

Al grinned. "Well, I had to clear the canvass for the next artistic endeavor!"

Yvette curled up to him. "I wasn't complaining... in fact, I'd love to see you again so we can see what other directions your artwork will take."

"You know... Christmas is just around the corner..." Gaining a peculiar look, Al defended himself. "Hey, four months away is around the corner. Anyway, I'd love to see what kind of Christmas tree you'd make."

She grinned. "Ohhhhh. We can make cookie ornaments. I'd love to see where you'll hang them."

Al looked her over carefully. "Right where we painted the base of that Statue of Liberty." He pulled her to him and traced his finger over her belly button. "I think a reindeer cookie belongs right here." He continued tracing up her body.

Yvette chuckled. "I guess the next question is... your place or mine for this Christmas tree trimming?"

"I'll let you know. Depends on whether I have my own place by then. But I wouldn't mind finding a little gift under my Christmas tree this year."

"I'd like that." She could feel herself becoming aroused again. This man exuded sensuality and she let herself continue to fall under his spell once more as she had all weekend. "Are you sure you have to leave tomorrow?"

"I'm afraid so," he murmured to her. "I need to figure out what's going on between me and Sam. Okay, right now, he's a pain in the ass. But he is my friend and we've never had pettiness come between us until now. And I don't think the answer is here in Taos. But the distractions here are enough to tempt me to stay," he added with a seductive grin.

She smiled back and then pulled his face to her, giving him a passionate kiss. As they broke away, she whispered. "Let's go back to the room then. I want as much of you as I can get before tomorrow."

"Too bad we don't own this hotel," Al whispered in return, gaining a peculiar look. "We could just stay here and make sure the gate is locked."

She nodded, but then turned to go up the stairs and out of the hot tub. "Maybe when you get your own place, you can make sure it has a hot tub too. Until then, follow me." She seductively gestured with her finger that she wanted him to come with her.

Al grinned more widely. "Yes, ma'am," he replied as he stepped out of the hot tub and grabbed a towel to dry off as he followed.


	8. Chapter 8

**THE OTHER SIDE OF LIFE**

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

_Monday, August 30, 1993_

_8:30 a.m._

Sam awoke, finding himself wrapped around Michelle's back and pulled her in closer to him. Neither of them had chosen to wear a thing and, feeling her close, he again felt a pang of regret that he wouldn't be having her in his arms another night. He accepted, however, her right to choose how to live her life. Kissing her shoulder, he pulled himself out of the bed and headed to the shower.

Michelle hummed softly as Sam pulled away from her. Slowly her eyes opened and she watched Sam as he took the last step into the bathroom. Sitting up in the bed, she gave a loud yawn and followed him into the small area. "Is there room for two?" she asked with a sleepy grin.

He turned back and grinned. "Always!" He went to the shower and adjusted the spray to a warm temperature. He allowed her to step in first and then followed. As they washed off each other's bodies, feeling each other's curves and angles under the silky soapiness, their lips met again. Once again they both found a physical compatibility between them. After the shower they both dressed. As they finished, Sam asked if she'd like breakfast.

Michelle called out from the dressing area, "In a minute. I need to finish getting my makeup on."

"Okay." Sam tuned on the TV. Flipping the channels he found an old episode of Twilight Zone entitled "In His Image" was just starting. He sat down on the bed watching the old show. As he watched the story of the insane robot, an idea suddenly popped into his head. "Michelle... you know that we worked on creating a chip that could support true artificial intelligence back at M.I.T?"

Michelle walked back into the room, pulling on one of her earrings. Nodding at the memory, she sat on the bed. "I remember. But nothing came of it. We could simulate all we wanted but to get a computer to actually think on its own without having a previously programmed set of parameters just didn't seem feasible."

"I think I've solved that."

"How?"

Sam stopped for a moment. He explained to the woman, "Michelle, my project is top secret so I can't really talk about the purpose of all the equipment and such. I think it would be safe to talk about the computer itself, though. It's not classified. More like it's proprietary to my company and I need to keep it that way. "

She nodded. "Okay. I won't say anything."

Sam got up and walked over to the wall and took a deep breath. He realized that Al would want to make sure that all the non-disclosures and paperwork were in place before he said anything to this woman. She had said it herself last night. He was relying on a relationship of 15 years in the past to protect proprietary information. Still, he knew that Michelle had been a trusted colleague in the past and felt certain he could trust her now. He had to talk to someone.

He was obviously trying to think how to say what was on his mind. As he turned around, releasing the breath, he simply stating, "I integrated a specialized computer chip with biological material."

The wonder that had been in Michelle's eyes changed quickly to confusion. "You... what?"

He clarified. "I integrated living biological material into a computer chip matrix. It means that the computer can really think. But I'm not sure if I went too far. I mean..." Sam looked very uncomfortable, as if he may have done something wrong. "…I'm not sure if I can control the computer now."

Michelle covered her mouth in wonder as the implications of what Sam said hit her. "You actually made it so a computer can think completely on its own!" She crossed her legs and nibbled at her fingernail, a clear indication that she was thinking. At Sam's comment, she shook her head. "No, there's always a way to keep a computer under control. I'm assuming that you'd have put in ethical subroutines."

"Yes. Of course. But as I said, the computer can think. Just like a person can choose to follow their ethical compass, the computer can choose to follow the ethical subroutines or not. Right now... I'm not sure that I haven't invented a real HAL."

The woman shook her head. "HAL's ethics subroutine was altered by an order to lie to his crew. I don't think you ordered your computer to do any such thing. And having ethics also means that a computer can have a sense of guilt. Wouldn't that mean that there would be some kind of almost biological attachment to its creator, namely you? No, I don't think your computer is another HAL any more than you are Freddy Krueger."

Sam looked thoughtful considering her analysis. "I guess since I used my brain cells, it is entirely logical that there would be a biological connection."

She looked at him as if she'd suddenly seen him sprout another head. "You used your own brain cells?" Michelle breathed out, realizing that in some ways this was as far out as any science fiction story she'd ever read.

Sam gave a weak grin to her. The look on her face told him that she wasn't sure what to make of the revelation. "Well, my brain cells and Al's nerve cells. The computer is supposed to allow our brainwaves to synch and thus allow the use of hologram images to be perceived of the other person. It has to do with Carbon quarks tuned to various neural mesons." 

Michelle stopped to consider what the man in front of her had just said. She recalled the incredible concepts he'd told her about years ago, but even then, the science fiction nature of the ideas had convinced her fifteen years ago that they'd never happen. But now… if what he was saying was true…"Sam. I have no idea how this biological matrix would affect the workings of a computer. But I do know that you might want to look real closely at this connection. I mean… has the computer gone live yet?"

He nodded. "Seven days ago."

Her eyes held the promise of a revelation as she asked, "And two days later you and Al left the project because of problems in your relationship?"

Sam nodded. "I don't see what that has…" Sam went suddenly quiet as he began to think about what Michelle had said. There had been a few other incidences after Ziggy had gone live, before the cabling incidence… certainly minor in comparison, but now, seeing them in this light, Sam realized another explanation might be at work. Suddenly what she was inferring hit him like a couple of medicine balls. "Oh, boy!" His stomach started to clinch as he started thinking about the past five days. A pattern was emerging and he wasn't sure he liked what he was seeing. He sat down heavily in the chair across from the bed. "You're saying that Al and I are now connected somehow in a way that upsets our interactions."

"I'm just postulating based on what you've told me. But as you said, it would be logical," she answered, concerned at the paleness in Sam's face.

Sam put his head in his hands. _Were these arguments symptoms that Ziggy was at the heart of the problems that he and Al were facing?_ Sam turned his brain to an objective analytical mode and considered the pieces to the puzzle. He looked at the data at hand. Al was a ladies' man. He always had been since Sam had met him and it had never bothered Sam this much until Ziggy came on line. Sam considered that he might be under some influence from that arena. If Al had an affinity for the fairer sex, maybe this could explain Sam's own feelings about women the past few days. It wasn't that Sam's attitudes weren't anything but healthily heterosexual, but he'd found that his feelings towards women and sexuality were currently stronger than most times. His activity with Michelle over the past few days (and nights) was evidence of that.

Sam next gave thought to how Al had been acting towards him. Sam knew that his scientific bend put him into a mode of innovation but also that he followed a systematic process. Sam wanted to do things right and do them the right way. Additionally, Sam didn't want to rock the boat if it wasn't necessary. Sam realized that from Al's point of view, this might be taken as boring, stubborn, and unable to see how things needed to be. It would explain some of Al's reactions.

Yes, suddenly all the things they had been experiencing made sense. It wasn't so much that they were acting out of character as much as it was that they were somehow influencing each other in some mixed up matrix. The biological connection that would allow each of them to see the other's holographic image through Ziggy had an unexpected side effect, one that Sam knew he had to get under control He figured that until he did, he shouldn't tell Al. After all, no use bothering him about it until Sam knew for sure what he could do. Still, he figured he needed to get the two of them on course so he could indeed figure this out.

"Thank you, Michelle. I think you're on the right track. I'm not sure how I can address it but…"

"You'll think of a way, Sam. You always do."

He gave a slight grin to her. "I'm going to have to. Things can't remain like they are now. I better call Al, though."

She nodded and walked over to the dresser to finish putting on her jewelry.

Sam called to Al's room at the other hotel. To the answering voice of his friend, Sam greeted, "Hi, Al. I just wondered what time we should meet and where." Michelle had told him the night before she was leaving by eleven a.m. and it was now eight.

"Just meet me here at 10:30. We have a couple of errands to do this morning. We should be finished by then."

"Okay. I'll see you at 10:30." He hung up the phone. He turned to Michelle. "I owe you big time, lady. Breakfast sound like the start of an acceptable repayment?"

Smiling, Michelle took his arm. "Sure. Lead on, Sam," and they headed out for the final meal of their reunion weekend.

_Monday, August 30, 1993_

_9:00 a.m._

Al and Yvette had been up for awhile. They were meeting Sandra and Ted for the continental breakfast served in the back lobby area of the Lodge. Taking their coffees, muffins, and juices out to the patio, they found a table next to the broad lawn.

"I love this place!" Sandra exclaimed.

"It does have a sort of charm you don't find many places anymore," answered Yvette.

Ted took a sip of his orange juice. "We certainly haven't seen either of you since Saturday night. I take it that is a good sign?"

Al smiled. "Thank you both for introducing us. Yvette is a wonderful woman."

Grinning, Sandra exclaimed, "I knew it! I had a feeling you would hit it off."

Al and Yvette grinned at each other. Simultaneously they answered, "We sure did." Laughing that they'd answered the same way, they went on to talk about the events of the weekend, at least the ones that they felt comfortable talking about.

After breakfast, Al and Yvette headed over to the store to retrieve their photographs. Al had ordered two sets. Looking over the multiple pictures, Al was thankful that Yvette knew the owner of the photo lab and that the pictures were not confiscated. The fact that Yvette often did artistic projects a bit off the beaten path didn't hurt anything.

It was just after 10 a.m. when Al and Yvette returned to the Lodge. Yvette pulled her things together in her overnight bag. They were sitting out in front of Al's room when the emerald green 1992 Pontiac Firebird pulled into the parking lot. Al thought back for a moment to two mornings before when a similar scene had played out. Then, he'd been angry at Michelle for stepping between him and Sam. Now he was glad. If she hadn't, Al would probably have never met Yvette and that, he decided, would have been a travesty. In any case, Michelle was right. Having a couple of days apart had provided a little respite from the arguments that they had experienced for the past week.

Al got up. "Hiya, Sam." He turned to the driver, "Nice to see you again, Michelle."

Sam grinned. "Hi, Al. Yvette." Michelle too said her hello's as did Yvette. Sam pulled his luggage out of the backseat. "Hey, Al, can you open the trunk? I can put these in there now."

"Sure, Sam." Al helped him to put his bags in the back of the sedan. He noticed the jacket, hanging with its plastic cover. "I see you got the jacket after all."

"Um, yeah. You were right, Al. It is a very nice jacket. I guess I should have listened to you." Before Al could say anything, Sam added, "Of course, just because I accept that this jacket is nice is not a license for you to change my entire wardrobe. I'm pretty happy with what I have."

"I wouldn't dream of changing your entire wardrobe for fear of you doing the same to me," Al teased him as he grabbed the jacket and carried it to the sedan. Hanging it up, he looked towards Sam. "Got everything?"

"Yeah. I think so." He turned to Michelle. "I'm glad we bumped into each other this weekend, Michelle. I don't want to lose touch with you again." He opened his arms and she moved into them. They hugged each other tightly.

Michelle slowly pulled away with a smile on her face. As they broke from each other, she answered, "I've got your card, Sam. I'll call you when I'm set up in my new place. But now, I've got to get back and finish packing so I can get on the road. I want to get home before three."

Giving him a gentle kiss, she started for her car. She said her goodbyes to Al and Yvette as well and then slipped into her car. She pulled out and waved to the group, giving a little honk as she left.

Al smiled slightly at the sight. He had to admit that Sam certainly seemed like he was doing a heck of a lot better. So maybe Michelle wasn't such a hussy after all. Watching Michelle drive away, Al nudged Sam slightly. "So... it looks like you two had a good time together."

"She's a wonderful woman. And brilliant to boot." He smiled. "Yeah, we had a good time together." He paused a moment longer and then turning asked, "You packed?"

"Right," Al commented with a slight grin. "I should probably load my things in the car too. It will only take a few minutes to finish packing." He headed back into the room.

Sam smiled at Yvette. "I sure enjoyed meeting you last night, Yvette. Did you say you live in Texas?"

"I used to live in Texas," Yvette corrected him gently. "Actually, I live here in Taos, closer to Taos Pueblo. I find inspiration for my art here. By the way, Al really is a great artist. I really want to see some of his more serious work."

Sam's eyes shadowed for a moment. "Yeah, so you two said last night. I never knew that Al painted." He brightened a second later. "Al said your work is fantastic."

Yvette grinned slightly. "Well... it helps me pay the bills." She reached over and touched his arm. "I'm glad you two seem to be getting along now. I really was worried for a moment."

Sam nodded. "I'm not completely sure, but I think things might be getting better." He didn't want to tell her about his concept about Ziggy and left it at that.

"Well, I can tell you that this whole thing, whatever it is, has really been on Al's mind." She turned her head slightly as Al came out with the last of his luggage - the painting that Yvette had given him. Returning her gaze to Sam, she told him, "You take care of that man there, Sam. He's one hell of a guy and he really loves you. I can tell."

"The feeling is mutual." Sam looked at the rectangular item wrapped in brown paper. "What's that?"

"This," Al told him, "is a gift from my new friend Yvette." He gave her a grateful smile. "Wait until you see this, Sam. It'll be the perfect compliment for... umm... the lounge."

"Really? That's great!" He noticed that Al and Yvette were moving a bit closer to each other. "Hey, Al. Give me your key. I'll check you out of the Lodge."

Al smiled at his friend, surrendering the key and watched as Sam walked across to the office. He then turned his full attention to Yvette. "I'm glad I met you." He gently touched her cheek. "You're one hell of a lady."

"And you were definitely the best part of my weekend. You'll call me when you get back to Socorro?"

"Sure will." He pulled her into a warm embrace before kissing her passionately. "If you ever get the urge to finger paint..."

"Oh, believe me. Finger painting is just the beginning," she said smiling coyly. "You'll love what I can do with an airbrush."

"Oh, really?" Al murmured as Sam approached them. "Well, we'd better get on the road."

"Okay." She turned to Sam. "Again, it was nice to meet you, Sam. I hope to see you again." She got into her car and headed out, turning left as she left the parking area.

Al sighed with contentment. "What a lady," he said mostly to himself. "So, you ready?"

Sam waved as she took off, smiling. He really was glad that Al had met Yvette after his own disappearing act a few days before. Hearing Al's question he turned and said, "Yeah. Let's get going."

The two men got in the car. Al was again in the driver's seat. As they headed out of the Lodge's parking lot, Sam asked Al to make a left.

"You forget to ask Michelle something? I thought we were going to Santa Fe."

"No… we don't need to find Michelle," Sam corrected. "And we are going to Santa Fe."

"Then we'd be heading in the wrong direction."

"Yeah. But I want to head up to Cid's Grocery Store. Tina asked me to pick up some green tea and hemp seed meal for her."

"Hemp seed meal?"

"Yeah. It's from Canada. Tina said it's really nutritious."

They were busy talking. Suddenly, Sam stated, "You need to turn in… Darn, you missed the turn in."

"You need to give me a little more warning, Sam." They continued driving north, with Al looking for a good place to turn around.

"I know. Sorry."

"That's okay," Al said as he turned into another parking lot. He turned the car around and waited until the traffic cleared to pull back out in the road. "I'm very talented in going around in circles."

Sam gave him a grin. "I've known that for a long time, Al."

Al narrowed his eyes as he stated, "In a car, Sam. In a car."

With an innocent face, Sam protested, "Oh, no, Al. You go around in circles a lot more than just in a car."

Al grinned, "Yeah, that's true but that's 'cause the girls just can't get enough of me."

"Legend in your own mind?"

"Well, you know legends are based on reality."

Sam looked over to Al, "Reality is relative to one's perspective."

Al's head turned and he pointed out a woman washing car at carwash as they passed. Figuring Sam needed a good needling back, he stated, "Yeah… and from my perspective, that's one honey I'd like to be going in circles with right now… and other similar undulating movements."

"Oh, gawd, Al… do you have to make everything about sex?"

"Of course. What else is there?" He turned into the grocery story parking lot. Sam jumped out and headed in, Al coming in behind him.

"You get the stuff for Tina, Sam. I'm going to get us some snacks."

"It's a deal."

A few minutes later, both men had completed their shopping. Al eyed Sam's selection. "Isn't that a lot of tea and hemp meal?"

"Tina said she likes to stock up. She doesn't know when she'll be up in the Taos area again. She likes Cid's."

"Okay." The purchases were rung up and paid for. After stowing their purchases in the car, they headed out again, this time heading south to Santa Fe.

"Where are we staying tonight, Al?"

"Oh, I've got a buddy who has a place in Santa Fe. He told me I can use his place anytime I'm in town and no one's rented. I called him and the place is unoccupied at the moment. Hopefully, we won't need it for more than a few days. His next rental will arrive in four days or so. We just have to leave the place cleaned up."

"Yeah. I'm hoping we'll be back at the project by then."

"Me too, pal. Me too."

Al decided to take the main road down to Santa Fe. It took them about ten minutes to reach the south end of Taos. Sam asked him to stop for a moment at the Chapel where Donna had left him which was on that end of town. Al's back stiffened. "Why do you want to go there, Sam?"

Sam turned to him and Al tried to read his eyes. For once, he wasn't sure what he saw in them but he thought it might be acceptance. "I think I need to put something behind me, Al. Things don't always work out."

Al hesitated for a long moment before nodding slightly. "Bury the past but don't forget too much of it," he concluded.

Sam's gaze turned far away and a slight grin tugged on his mouth. "Oh, I don't think I'll ever be able to forget. I just need to see it for what it is. It's only a church and a beautiful one too. I just don't need to let it haunt me anymore."

Al had the feeling that the "it" wasn't just the chapel that Sam was referring to. Al swallowed slightly before he nodded. "Okay, Kid. Whatever you want." He pulled into the parking lot and watched as Sam got out of the car.

Al watched as Sam walked around the grounds of the Chapel, seemingly lost in thought. He almost started to go after him as he watched the man look upwards towards the bell tower, and noted the shine on his face that were obviously from tears. He stopped himself as he watched the younger man mouth a few words and then start back to the car.

Sam had known that Al was watching him, but at that moment he didn't care. Seeing Michelle had led him to thinking differently about Donna, at least a little bit. If Michelle had the right to live her life as she saw fit, didn't Donna have that right as well? Maybe it wasn't all his fault. Maybe some of it was due to her own failings. He looked up into the turquoise blue sky of New Mexico, gazing at the bell tower. Tears were streaming from his eyes and he brushed them away. Taking a deep cleansing breath, he whispered, "Goodbye, Donna. I hope you have a good life."

He straightened up again and walked back to the car. He noticed that Al had gotten out and was standing by the town car watching him.

"You okay, Kid?" Al asked softly, clearly concerned for his friend. Seeing Sam just nod, he nodded in return and waited until Sam had gotten back into the car before following his lead.

They traveled in silence for awhile, Sam lost in his thoughts and Al not sure if he should say anything for fear of setting off another incident. Suddenly Sam spoke up. "It wasn't me, Al. It was Donna's choice to leave. She didn't do it the best way, but it was her choice."

Al was quiet for a moment before he glanced at his partner. "I'm glad you have come to accept that, Sam."

"I think seeing Michelle helped me do that, Al. You know, she turned me down this weekend too."

"Turned you down?" Al questioned for clarification. "Ah, you thought that there might have been something more serious going on than there actually was." At Sam nod of agreement, he added, "Well, at least she didn't throw you out into the cold."

"It's August in New Mexico, Al. It wouldn't have been cold," the younger man said wryly. "Yeah. I thought we could pick up again where we left off. I was wrong."

Al nodded slightly. "We all make mistakes. Even me, believe it or not."

"Why wouldn't I believe you? After all..." Sam stopped suddenly and winced as if something hurt him.

"Sam?" Al asked, noticing the sudden silence. Turning his head, he saw the look on Sam's face and immediately pulled over to the side of the road. Quickly putting the car in park, he turned his entire focus on his friend. "Sam, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing, Al. Just a headache. Come on... let's just keep driving. I'll be fine."

"Headache schmeadache," Al countered. "You don't get that look with just a headache."

"Please. Just trust me on this one. I swear to you, it's nothing to be concerned with." Sam had been about to say something about the cabling again and had stopped himself. That was when he felt the sharp pain behind his eye. Still, he was glad he'd been able to stop before saying something that would have just brought on another argument. He figured this was yet another symptom of the Ziggy connection. "Really, Al. Let's just get to Santa Fe."

Al hesitated for a long moment before giving a slight nod. "Okay, if you insist. Why don't you lay back and rest your eyes? Looks like that headache has to be a doozy." Waiting until Sam had nodded to his suggestion, Al shifted the car back into gear and got back on the road.

"I think that there's some aspirin in the first aid kit," he suggested.

"No. I don't think I need them right now. But thanks."

Sam set the seat back and closed his eyes. He thought about what was going on. If he was right, the biological matrix was creating an energy that was feeding the arguments. He decided to utilize some of the meditation techniques he'd learned during his martial arts training. After 20 minutes later, he felt okay again and pulled his seat back up.

Sam reached around to the backseat. Pulling the computer bag towards him, he pulled out the laptop. He started working on the program utilizing the new insight he'd gained that morning during his conversation with Michelle.

Sam had been quietly working for about fifteen minutes when Al commented, "You're rather talented in typing while in the car."

Sam didn't look up but dryly replied, "Well since you're driving, I'd hope you wouldn't attempt it."

Al gave him a sarcastic smile. "Funny, Sam. Real funny." He paused for a minute. "You making any progress with that mass of binary spaghetti?"

"Uh…well." Sam didn't want to give away what he was working on. "Sort of, I guess…but not really."

Al picked up the hedging in Sam's voice. Over the past six years since they'd become partners, Al had become very adept at reading Sam's inflections. "Okay, Sam, if I've heard you try to hide something before, I've heard it a thousand times. You just don't pull it off well, Kid. Spill it."

"What?" Sam turned to him, providing an innocent look which just confirmed Al's suspicions.

_Hedging voice, innocent expression. Yeah, Sam's hiding something,_ crossed Al's mind. From his lips though, he expressed, "Whatever you're trying not to tell me."

"It's nothing, Al." Sam still seemed to be hedging, intently staring into the laptop screen.

"Nothing, Dr. Beckett, is the complete and total lack of anything. There is obviously something or you wouldn't have that look on your face," Al pointed out.

Sam thought about his earlier resolve not to say anything to Al and realized it wasn't going to work. Somehow, Al always knew when he was trying to hide something. It was the same trait that Tom had when he was alive. Sam could never keep anything from his big brother either. "Umm... well... Michelle and I had a talk earlier this morning..."

"What a concept. Two adults having a conversation," Al said with a slight hint of impatience but mostly teasingly.

"Yeah.. .but this was more of a discussion between professional colleagues." He paused. "You know that Michelle has some great insights into artificial intelligence and she's an excellent computer engineer. That's probably why she got that job in Los Alamos."

"Uh-huh," Al hummed slightly. "So, what was this great conversation about?" After a moment, Al realized that Sam had mentioned artificial intelligence. "Wait a second..." he said cautiously. Looking briefly at Sam, he frowned. "You told her about Ziggy?" He was clearly stunned by the idea. "Sam... are you nuts?!"

"Ziggy isn't classified, Al." Sam pointed out.

"Well, he should be!" Al told him emphatically. "In any case, it's proprietary information. You know... the reason that your company has value for this project? How do you know she wasn't an industrial spy or something? That could be why she was so conveniently in Taos this weekend."

"But Ziggy _isn't_ classified. Ziggy isn't a deliverable to the government, just the data he helps uncover." He paused and then added, "As to the Ziggy proprietary nature, she promised not to say anything to anybody."

Al sighed slightly. "And you believe her. Okay. Fine. We won't get into an argument over something that has already been established. What did you and Michelle discuss concerning Ziggy?"

"Well..." Sam was looking as if he cheated on a final exam. "...it's entirely possible that...umm..."

Al gave him a look. "Saaammmm..."

Sam blew out a breath. "It'sentirelypossiblethatZiggy'saffectingourminds," he stated, his sentence sounding like one giant word.

"What did you say?" Al questioned with a frown. "Did you just say Ziggy's affecting our minds? Is that what you said?"

Sam looked up at him, a pained look on his face. "Um, yeah. That's what I said, Al. Ziggy's probably the reason we've been fighting for the past six days."

"Now, how is that possible?" Al asked, pondering his words. "Some kind of electrical interference?"

Sam shrugged as he tossed the concept around his mind. "You could call it that, I guess. After all, brainwaves and nerve cells work off a type of electrical current." Sam looked out the window. He was pretty sure that Al's seeming calm was about to evaporate. It was making his stomach twist in knots.

Al seemed lost in thought for a split second before he refocused on the road. "Huh," he huffed as if something caught his fancy. "What do you know? Yvette was probably on the right track."

Sam's head snapped back towards Al. _This_ was unexpected. "What?"

"Well, she said that we seemed to be on a different wavelength of communication than most people, that the interference was like being on different gigahertz while trying to listen to the same radio station." He paused. "Of course, I'm paraphrasing."

"She said that?" Sam thought for a second. "Yeah, I guess with her training, she probably saw something during dinner." He stopped and then stated, "If she's as good an artist as she is in communications theory, that picture you have in the trunk must be fantastic."

"Oh, you'll love it, Sam. You'd never guess what it is."

"The painting? Probably somewhere around Taos, right?

Al gave him a wide grin. "Nope. It's of the mountains where the project is located."

"The project? She couldn't have gotten in there. How could she paint a picture of the project?"

"Well, it isn't exactly the project. It's a view of the San Andres from Trinity Site," Al explained. "So, it's the outside of the project, in a sense."

"Wow. That's incredible. I can't wait to see it."

"I have some of her other work in the car, if you want to see it," Al told him, a wide grin on his face, his eyes gleaming.

"Really? Where?"

"In the front pocket of my jacket," he told him, gesturing with his head to the back seat. "We got them developed overnight." The smile he wore was eerily similar to the Cheshire Cat's.

Sam reached back and retrieved the envelope out of Al's jacket. He opened it and pulled out the pictures. The first ones were of the area Sam recognized as Abiquiu, where Georgia O'Keefe had her "Ghost Ranch." When he looked at the 5th picture, however, his face turned bright red. "These are... are..."

"Artwork," Al told him. "What? You don't like her art?"

"Al... they're of you and her and you're both..." he quickly put the pictures back into the envelope. Narrowing his eyes, he said, "I knew there was something else last night."

"Hey, I didn't say we used cloth canvas to finger paint on," Al leered at him. "Besides, there's real art in those photographs, whether you like it or not. There's nothing wrong with the human body."

"I never said there was anything wrong with the human body. But this type of thing should be personal and private. Why would you show them to me?"

"You wanted to see her artwork," Al explained. "Without actually getting out of the car and opening up that carefully wrapped canvas in the trunk, this was the best way. Besides, Yvette's a gorgeous woman and you have to admit she looks great in blue and pink."

"Yes, Al. She is a beautiful woman. But I would rather not discuss how she looks in Sherwin Williams Latex."

Al chuckled. "Hey, it was edible."

"That's too much information, Al." Sam looked away. He found himself again holding back from saying anything and the sharp pains behind his eyes were back. He closed his eyes tight and rubbed his forehead. He asked tiredly, "Where is this guy's house?"

"Oh, it's out on Canon Road, close to the Wheelwright Museum. It's an old adobe."

Sam nodded. "Okay. We should be there soon then. You mind if I keep working for now?"

"Go right ahead. Let me know if you figure out how Ziggy's messing with our minds."

"You'll be the first to know, Al." Sam continued to focus on the laptop. He had to find a solution to their problem, even with his head pounding.

_Monday, August 30, 1993_

_1:45 p.m._

Al stopped off at the office of the property manager and picked up the key. Sam had continued working and barely looked up. They arrived at the house, which according to Al had been a farmhouse many years before, about ten minutes later. Sam thought back to the farmhouses in Elk Ridge and shook his head. While the adobe house fit perfectly in the New Mexico high country desert, it would certainly be out of place in Indiana.

They got out of the car and headed to the front door. The place was old but had been kept up nicely. The door was a carved one and had been painted green. Al used the key and they entered the one story home.

Sam's eyes widened as he entered the home. It was a home that could have been featured in Architectural Digest. The entry way floor was terra cotta tile and all around him were niches with Native American pottery and Kachina dolls. They headed into the living room where one's eyes were pulled towards the Kiva fireplace. Two leather sofas and several hand carved tables were arranged in a pleasing configuration in the room. But what really piqued Sam's attention was the grand piano in a large alcove off the room.

"A piano?"

"Yeah. Mike likes to play and he found that having a piano is something a lot of his renters like, whether they play or not."

Sam walked over to it and ran his hand along the brightly polished black top. "It's beautiful." He walked over and sat down, running his fingers along the keys in one of the practice scales he'd learned those many years ago during piano lessons. "And it's in tune!"

"Glad you like it, Sam. But we need to get the luggage in and then go find some lunch. I take it you're hungry."

"Now that you mention it," Sam grinned.

"Okay. After that's done we'll come back and you can play the piano."

"Deal."

The two men quickly brought in their possessions. Sam was trying to decide if anything should stay in the trunk. Looking at the bag of hemp meal and tea he'd bought for Tina, he asked, "Hey, Al. You think we should keep this hemp in the car or bring it in?"

Al considered for a moment and then answered, "Well, we'll be here at least a couple of days. Bring it in."

Sam nodded. "You know, Al, if we'd been somewhere that someone could have overheard that statement, they might have gotten the wrong idea." Sam carried the bag with the hemp and tea in one arm and a suitcase in the other.

Al voice took on the sound of a surfer. "Dude, that's totally righteous stuff!"

Sam looked over to Al and his deadpan statement that was so out of character for the man and suddenly started laughing. Within moments, he'd dropped down to the suitcase hysterically laughing and having a difficult time getting his breath.

Al looked at Sam as if he'd lost his mind. Still, Sam no longer was showing signs of the headache that he was sure had returned after the situation with the pictures. Sam took a few seconds to get himself under control, stood up, and started walking to the door again. Looking at Al once more, he repeated the laughing jag, sitting again on the suitcase and again had a heck of a time catching his breath. Finally he got up and started in again.

"Breath, Sam. In… out… in… out."

That did it. This time tears came with the laughter and it took a minute before he could finally get into the house. Al looked over to Sam, not really sure how to take these wide swings in his emotions. Still, Sam didn't look nearly as tense as he had before. Maybe he just needed to release some energy.

Once in the house, Al pointed Sam to the bedroom he would be using. The bedrooms were a ways from the living room. Sam noticed a set of French doors which opened to the outside close to the bedrooms. "What's that?" he asked.

"Oh, that's the door to the hot tub."

"This place has a hot tub too?"

Al nodded. "Yeah, well, like the piano, Mike found that having one keeps the rentals up. You know, we're really lucky there was a lull in his leases. Otherwise, we'd never even be here."

Sam nodded and headed into his bedroom. He started unpacking. As he went through the items he'd brought in, he sheepishly realized, yet again he had no swimming trunks. He figured he must have left them in Michelle's room. He headed over to Al's room. He knocked lightly on the door jam.

Al turned around. He was just putting the rest of his clothes away. "You finished already?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. It doesn't take too long."

"Well, yeah, if you just toss things into a drawer." He'd seen Sam unpack before.

Sam ignored the comment. "Hey, Al, you won't believe what I'm going to tell you."

"What?" Al asked, his interest piqued.

Sam threw out one of his famous half grins. "I don't have any swimming trunks again."

Al couldn't believe it. Three times in one trip? "What?!"

Sam continued his sheepish look. "I must have left them in Michelle's hotel room. She probably has them."

"Quite a souvenir."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "She'll probably send them back. But for now, if I'm going to help you put that hot tub to use, I'm going to need another pair of trunks."

"Only you, Sam! Geez, this must be a record. Three pair of swimming trunks purchased in less then a week." Al closed the closet door. "Okay, I'm ready. Let's go. You have any suggestions of where to eat?"

"I could go for a hamburger."

"At Blake's?" Al asked, referring to the local chain in New Mexico.

"Yeah. Sounds good."

They headed over to the little fast food restaurant and ordered. Finding a table outside, Sam made the suggestion that since they were staying at a house, they could stop by the store and get a few things. After almost a week of eating out, he wanted something more homemade.

"Okay. I know where a grocery store is. Got anything in mind?"

"I'm going to get some breakfast stuff. Have I ever made you Eggs à la Beckett?"

"No."

Sam smiled. "Then you're in for a treat. It's Mom's special recipe."

"Well, if it's your Mom's recipe, it's got to be good!" Al commented before taking a big bite of his hamburger. "Of course, you know that means I'll have to provide my own contribution to the homemade meals."

"Like what?" Sam had had quite a few things Al had whipped up in the kitchen. Most of the time, he liked it. Occasionally, though, some of Al's creations took a little getting used to.

"Well, if you got breakfast covered, I'll get dinner. I'm thinking perhaps Calavicci Calzones."

Sam had eaten calzones before and he liked them. Of course, it depended on what was inside how much he liked them. "What are you planning to put in them?"

Al gave him a mischievous smile. "You have your secrets, Sam. I have mine."

"Okay, fine. Surprise me." He took another bite of his hamburger and chewed it thoughtfully. "How long do you think we'll be here? It's been almost a week and we've only just figured out what's wrong."

"Good question," Al commented, sipping on his soda. "I guess we're here until we have an answer."

"We can't take too long, Al! We're already behind on the project. We really need get back to work. I don't know how much time it will take to finish the Imaging Chamber after the cables arrive."

"I agree," Al told him bluntly. "But we can't finish the Imaging Chamber until we figure out how to fix this little problem." Seeing the look in Sam's eyes, Al gave him a look of his own. "This interconnectivity between us may drastically affect the whole rest of the project. Do you really want to risk everything we've done so far?"

Sam sighed and his shoulders sagged. "No." He looked down, pausing for awhile before finally stating. "I never saw this coming, Al. Maybe I should have, but I didn't."

"Sam, you're only human," Al said softly. "I never saw it coming either. Life throws curveballs all the time. You just got to take those curveballs and make lemonade out of them."

"I guess..." A wicked gleam came to Sam's eyes, "... but I usually make my lemonade with lemons not baseballs."

Al grinned. "I like ruffage." His eyes widened. "Hmm… lemonade makes me think of limeade. Limes make me think of a Killer Tsunami. You haven't had a Killer Tsunami! I'm gonna have to make some of those for us. Special occasion."

"Killer Tsunami?" Sam looked perplexed. "What the hell are those?"

"It's a drink that will knock your socks off!" Al told him. "My Navy buddies and I used to make them when we were on shore. Let's see... lime juice..." He frowned as he tried to remember. "What did Chip use to put in it to give it kick?"

"Kick? You up for drinking something strong? I'm not sure under the current conditions it would be wise to drink anything too potent. I don't know what _that_ would do to the connectivity." Seeing Al's face drop, Sam added, "Of course, alcohol is a depressant; it could actually improve things."

"Hey, we could consider it an experiment," Al pointed out. "Might make a great paper. 'Inter-meson Connectivity and the Effects of Ethanol.'"

"Yeah. Perhaps." Noting that they were just about finished with lunch, Sam asked, "So. What do you want to do now?"

"We have shopping to do, my friend. Lots and lots of shopping," Al replied as he gathered up the remains of their lunch. "Maybe ice cream later. Oh, that sounds so good. And of course we have to stop by the liquor store and get the ingredients for Killer Tsunamis." Seeing the look on Sam's face, he smiled.

Sam groaned. "Shopping? I hate shopping. I just need the swimming trunks. What do you need?"

"Well, you're the one who wanted groceries, which we can pick up on the way back. In the meantime, there's this great shop fairly close to the Plaza..." Hearing Sam's second groan in less than a minute, he raised his eyebrows. "What's wrong with the Plaza? Sam, your idea of a wardrobe is atrocious. How are you going to catch the girls' eyes if you dress like you're from a farm?"

Sam glared at Al. "I am from a farm." He picked up the tray with the empty containers and papers and walked over to put it in the trash. He walked back to Al afterwards. "And I caught Michelle's eye just fine."

"That's not the point!" Al exclaimed, grabbing his arm. "Michelle knew you back when what you are wearing now was the hottest thing to cross the street. Now, it's just old news. You need a new outfit, one with a little more... you in it."

"I fit this outfit well, Al!" Sam stated, pushing his arm off. He stopped as he realized what he was doing. "Dammit. It's happening again." He looked over to Al who seemed a bit put off at Sam's actions. Sheepishly, he stated, "I'm sorry, Al. Fine. Let's just go shopping."

Al exhaled slowly, licking his lips for a moment before following Sam away from the fast food eatery. "I'm sorry, Sam," he said as they approached the car. "If you don't want to go with me, that's okay. I just feel like... I don't know," he told him. "I'm not trying to change your style. Honest," he continued.

"No. It's all right. The connectivity just started kicking in full force again." He continued walking back to the car and a little faster pace then absolutely necessary, betraying his agitation. "Who knows? It's remotely possible I'll actually enjoy this."

"I doubt it," Al murmured, unlocking the car and slipping into it. Waiting until Sam was in, he started the car and, after insuring they were both buckled in, started the drive to the Plaza.

Sam didn't say anything during the short drive to the heart of Santa Fe. He actually sort of liked the Plaza and could only attribute his attitude to the irritating effects of the connectivity. It seemed to creep up on him. Knowing that he couldn't see any way to fix the situation didn't make his mood any better.

Al drove around and eventually found a parking space. With an expertly executed parallel parking maneuver, they stopped. The car was about five blocks off of the Plaza.

Noticing that Sam seemed to be lost in thought, Al turned to him. "Hey! Come out of your dream world. We need to walk a couple of blocks."

"Why?"

"There's a store I want you to see." He saw Sam take a deep breath before blowing it out forcefully. "Hey, you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry I snapped back there. You'd said earlier you wanted to go shopping. I'm sorry if I'm being difficult."

"It happens," Al told him with a smile. "Come on." He stepped out of the car. Sam was taking his time getting out, so he peeked in again. "I promise I won't try and make you look hip."

Sam looked over at Al. He consciously pulled on the fact that this was his friend who he'd spent the last six years working on his dream with and smiled back. Getting out of the car, he answered, "I don't think that look would work on me anyways."

"Nope. I'll make sure that you are as boring as possible," Al teased as he closed the door. "Nothing but primary colors for Dr. Beckett."

Sam looked hurt. "Hey, I'm not that bad. I wear other shades of color."

Al grinned. "Could have fooled me," he told him as they walked towards the store. It took a couple of minutes to get there. The store itself was not unlike many in the New Mexican city. It was in an old, one story adobe style building. As they entered, Al gestured around the place. "See? What'd I tell you? This place is great!"

Sam looked at the store. He'd been to Santa Fe several times. As the capital of the state of New Mexico, he'd had to work with several of the government agencies as the project was being built. When he'd occasionally walked through the Plaza area, he'd noted that most of the stores sold what many would call "southwest chic." This store was different. If anything, it reminded him of a western wear store that had southwest influences. He noted a pair of horned back lizard boots on display. They looked about his size. "I've never seen this store before," he said conversationally.

"Doesn't surprise me," Al told him. "People who come to Santa Fe for the shopping always go right on the Plaza. Too expensive and way too preppy if you ask me. Here, you don't get overcharged as much and it's real quality stuff." He smiled at the attendant who was approaching them. "Hi," he greeted.

"May I help you gentlemen?"

"Yes," Al put in quickly before Sam could say anything. "My friend here won't admit it but he needs a new outfit. Something on the conservative side but that really makes him noticeable."

The clerk nodded. "Very good. Let's see. Perhaps some of these shirts over here." He started walking towards a rack of shirts.

Sam stood there for a moment before Al pushed him in the direction of the young woman. "Um, not too noticeable," he said to her back.

Sam and Al spent the next hour looking over the clothing at the store. By the time they were finished, Sam had three western style shirts and the pair of boots he'd spotted earlier. He figured the jeans he had purchased in Albuquerque were more than sufficient. Al had tried to interest him in a western cut black suit, but Sam declined. "I'd never wear it," was his reasoning. Al figured that getting the Kid this far was probably the best he could do at the moment.

Al, for his part, after perusing the collection of various suits, decided on a western cut turquoise suit and a pair of black boots.

They headed out of the store with their packages. Sam had decided to wear his boots saying that he'd like to break them in. As they walked along the street, they passed a variety of shops. Al kept stopping to look at through the plate glass at the items for sale.

Exasperated at their slow pace, Sam complained, "Geez, Al. You take window shopping to a whole new level."

"Why, thank you very, very much!" Al said with a wide grin.

Sam frowned at him. "That wasn't meant as a compliment. We need to get going. We've got quite a bit of grocery shopping to do."

"All right, all right," Al told him with a sigh, tucking his hands in his pockets. They walked a short distance before he stopped again and looked in a window. "Oh, Sam... We have to go in here!"

Sam gave him a pained looked. "Why?" he groaned.

"I have to try a hat on," Al told him bluntly, going into the store without waiting for Sam.

Sam stood on the sidewalk for a moment, looking towards the block and a quarter still left before they reached the car and into the store where the back of his buddy was clearly following his desire. "A hat? Oh give me a break! You have about thirty of them already!" Still he figured he should follow Al. With a sigh, he walked into the store as well.

"You can't have too many hats," Al said with a grin as he lifted a hat and looked at it admiringly.

"I don't know. Seems to me, you can have too much of anything. After all it was Anacharsis that suggested moderation in everything."

"Ana... who?" Al questioned as he picked up another hat. He showed it to Sam. "What do you think?"

"Anacharsis was a Greek philosopher. He exhorted moderation in everything. He used grapes as a metaphor... the first wine brings pleasure, the second brings drunkenness, and the third, disgust. So the Athenians inscribed on his statues: 'Restrain your tongues, your appetites, your passions'," Sam explained. "I don't know. It looks okay, I guess."

Al gave it to him. "Try it on," he encouraged.

Sam looked at it askance. "I don't think so, Al. I think I have enough hats."

"I don't call a baseball cap a hat," Al commented sarcastically. "Go ahead. Try it on."

Sam displayed a sarcastic half grin. "Fine." He put the hat on his head. "Satisfied?"

"Ecstatic!" Al told him. "It suits you." He picked up another hat, one that was a little more flashy in design, and put it on his head. He frowned for a moment, took it off, and then put it on again.

"What's wrong?"

"The hat doesn't fit me. My head's too big."

Sam looked at his friend with a smirk. "Gee, Al, I never thought I'd hear you admit that."

Al quirked an eyebrow at Sam. "Hey, you know what they say: big head, big... youknowwhat."

Sam blushed. "No. I've never heard that and I'm sorry I have now." He took off the hat and put it back on the stand. "I'll wait outside, Al."

Al sighed slightly, realized how that sounded to Sam in their current mental condition. He gently put his hand on his arm, stopping him from leaving. "I'm sorry, Sam." But when Sam pulled his arm away, he let him go knowing that pressing him wasn't a good idea.

Sam walked out the door. Since they were in Santa Fe, the ever present seating along the walk ways was too. Al looked out the window as Sam went and sat down under an Acacia tree.

Looking around the store, Al found a hat that he knew Sam would enjoy and then the hat that had caught his attention. Making sure that his choice fit his head well, he brought them to the counter and paid for his purchases before leaving the store and going to the tree where Sam was sitting.

"Got you something," he told him quietly. He dug into the bag and brought out a hat box, giving it to Sam. "I just... saw this and thought it would really go great with the shirts you bought earlier."

Sam looked up to him. "You didn't need to."

Al was a bit shocked to see the pain in Sam's eyes. He sat down next to him. "Sam. It was just a joke. You know how I am sometimes."

"Yeah, Al. I know. It really isn't that. It's when those things get said right now, I'm ready to fire back. And not doing so physically hurts. I'm really trying to keep from feeling things, but it's hard."

Al nodded slowly from Sam's words. "I know. Believe me, I know. But don't worry. We'll figure this thing out."

"What if we can't, Al? What if this is reality 'til the end of our days?" The anguish in Sam's voice was heavy.

Al looked to Sam and stated it firmly, almost as if it was an order. "We'll figure this thing out. We have to." He saw Sam look down. "Listen, Beckett, you've figured out how to travel in time. You'll figure this out too."

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Believe me, I want to. Let's just get the groceries and go home."

Al nodded. "Okay. But aren't you going to take a look?"

"A look?" Sam questioned with a frown.

"At the hat," Al clarified, pointing to the box in Sam's hands.

Sam gave a weak smile. "Yeah. The hat. Sure." He opened the box and pulled out a cream colored Stetson with a brown leather band that had diamonds cut out of the leather to show the hat underneath.

"I figured it would go well with that shirt you bought this earlier. Plus, it isn't as dramatic as some of my own choice of hats. Simple but stylish," Al told Sam as he looked at the hat.

"It's nice, Al." He took the hat and placed it on his head. "Perfect fit"

Al smiled whimsically. "Perfect fit for a perfect sized head."

Sam smiled at Al, knowing he was doing his best to get him out of his slump. "Thanks, Al."

"Let's go," he said after a moment. "I need calzone ingredients."

Sam picked up the package that held the shirts and got up. Al did as well and the two headed to the car.


	9. Chapter 9

**THE OTHER SIDE OF LIFE**

**CHAPTER NINE**

_Monday, August 30, 1993_

_4:10 p.m._

On the way to the grocery store, they found a sporting goods store. Sam ran in and quickly selected a pair of trunks that were coffee colored with a black inset stripe. The price was more than he'd wanted to pay but then again, he'd already bought two pair. Why the hell not three?

When they reached the grocery store, one that specialized in world wide cuisines, Al told Sam what he needed and then headed off to retrieve the ingredients for the Tsunamis. He said he'd be back within forty-five minutes. Sam nodded and headed into the store. Retrieving everything he needed for breakfast and the items Al had indicated, he decided to pick up some lunch meat and bread along with some chips. He figured that while they were there, they might as well shop for lunch as well. Once everything was totaled up and bagged he met Al in the parking lot and headed back to the house.

Al went directly into the kitchen. Sam went into the music room. Bustling around the kitchen, Al allowed the sounds of Sam's playing to sooth him. Sam could play a repertoire from classical to jazz. He'd even written a number of pieces himself. Today, he was playing some fusion jazz. It was nice.

Once the calzones were put into the oven, Al whipped up a batch of his Tsunamis. He poured two out and headed into the living room. "Hey, Sam. Come on over. We have an experiment to conduct."

Sam looked up from his playing, a question on his face. "Experiment?"

"Yeah. Remember, the Tsunamis?"

Sam nodded. "I'm still not sure this is the best idea, Al." The look of concern could be cut with a knife.

"Hey, you said it yourself. It may actually make things better."

Sam sighed. He sounded almost defeated. "You know, I'm almost more afraid of that happening."

"Why?" Al queried.

Sam closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them looking at Al directly. "I don't want to have to use alcohol as a crutch."

Al nodded. "Trust me, neither do I. I've been there, done that. Not a pleasant destination to return to."

Sam took the glass and took a tentative sip. A moment later, a smile lit up his face.

"Hey, these are good."

Al smiled and raised his glass. "Here's to us and that Nobel prize you're going to win!" He took a small gulp and gasped. "Hotter than I remember," he whispered hoarsely.

Sam smiled. "Yeah... that's what I like about 'em. I guess I should have expected that with a whole jalapeno in the glass."

"Well, I knew they were hot," Al told him. "But I haven't had one of these in... twenty years!! Geez, I'm getting old." Al shook his head before sipping the drink again.

Sam took another small sip. "What's in these things, anyways?"

"Absolut Peppar, violet liquor, lime juice, bitter lemon, and, of course, a jalapeno," Al answered. "Now that's a drink that'll make your hair stand on end."

"You can say that again. These are definitely pretty potent!" Sam looked up and sniffed. "Are those the calzones?"

Al smiled. "Yeah." He sipped at his drink again. "They've still got a couple more minutes." He looked at his drink for a moment. "Doesn't quite taste like I remember. But then again, Chip liked chili peppers. Of course, making the vodka really wasn't that hard. The violet liqueur was the doozy."

"Why?" Sam asked. Since he usually keep to the basics when he drank, that being light beer, wine, or an occasional scotch, he had no idea.

"Oh... it's a fairly rare liqueur to find. You gotta know where to look. I figured they probably had it in Santa Fe and I was right."

Sam nodded and took another sip. "Well, I'm certainly enjoying the experience."

"At the time, I just happened to know this cute little French girl whose daddy specialized in liqueurs..."

Sam looked over to Al, a pained frown on his face. "Do you have any stories that don't start out with knowing some girl?"

Al gave him a look right back. "Hey, I said I knew her. That doesn't mean there was any kind of relationship other than a platonic one. I was with someone at the time."

"Oh. Sorry. I guess I've just gotten used to the stories ending a little differently... like location and position." Sam shook his head. "Did I say that?"

Al glowered at him. "Yes. You did. And in case you really wanted to know, the location was at a party with four other guys and the position was a fully dressed vertical position." He got up and walked away, the drink still in his hand. "Now, if you will excuse me, the calzones are done."

Sam put his drink down on the table in front of the couch. He called after his friend's retreating back. "Look Al, I'm sorry. I really am." Al continued into the kitchen.

_Dammit, I knew the alcohol had a potential for being a problem. I can't believe I said that._

He looked at the glass. Even under normal conditions, he didn't drink anything that fast. Hell, even a scotch would last him for hours.

"This is crazy. Why didn't I see this coming?" Sam put his head into his hands. "I've got to figure this out. I've got to."

Al took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He knew that Sam really was sorry for his words. But the connectivity problem was causing them to get on each other's nerves without them even thinking about the consequences. They had to find a solution soon. Otherwise, one of these days, Sam Beckett was going to find himself on the floor with a broken jaw or worse.

Wiping his face, he lifted his glass to his lips again and drained it, gasping at the burn it produced. Then, turning to the oven, he carefully pulled out the calzones before they could burn.

"Hey, Sam, wanna set the table while I finish this up," he called from the kitchen. The time away from Sam was helping to calm his nerves.

Sam got up slowly from the couch. He felt a little dizzy and attributed that to the drink he'd just consumed quickly. Yeah. He'd better stick with beer or wine from now on. "Sure, Al." He headed over to the southwestern carved cabinet and pulled out the silverware and place mats. When those were placed he headed to the kitchen for the plates and glassware.

Coming into the kitchen, he saw Al dancing around getting the plates ready himself. Sam pulled down the glasses. "What do you want to drink?"

"There's a red zinfandel in the wine refrigerator," Al told him, nodding his head toward an electronic 'cube.'

Sam raised an eyebrow. "There's a refrigerator just for wine?"

"Absolutely. You can't put wine in a regular refrigerator. It would be too cold."

Sam looked towards the refrigerator that Al had pointed him too. "Um.. Al? I don't know if the wine is such a good idea." Seeing Al about to disagree he put his hand up. "I mean, right now I'm feeling dizzy. I think it was probably the Tsunamis. I don't usually drink like that and neither do you."

Al turned towards him. "You can't have calzones and not have a wine with them." Seeing Sam look at him, he sighed. "You're probably right." He went to the refrigerator and looked inside. "We've got water, ginger ale, club soda and tea, if you aren't going for the wine."

"It's not that I don't want to, Al. It's just that..." Seeing Al's face he acquiesced. How bad could it get? "Okay. A glass of wine. A small one." He pulled the bottle out of the special refrigerator.

"Agreed," Al said with a slight smile. "Besides, I'm not that crazy about that brand of ginger ale and I hate club soda without lime." Getting two wine glasses, he gestured Sam to follow him to the dining room. He then placed the plates and glasses on the table and took the bottle from Sam.

As Al started pouring, Sam spoke up. "A small glass, Al."

Al just gave him a look. "This is a small glass," he told him as he put the half-filled glass by the plate.

Sam sighed. "Okay." He was still feeling dizzy and the amount in the glass was more than he wanted. Still he wasn't going to rock the boat. The buzz in his head just seemed to be getting louder.

Al gave him a little smile before he poured the second glass only a third full. "I'm getting the picture that you aren't up to more than this much." Trading the glasses, he put the half filled one by his own plate. "Better get a couple of glasses of water too."

Sam smiled. "Thanks." He went into the kitchen and got two glasses of water with ice.

The two men sat down and started to cut into their calzones. Sam took a bite and started chewing. His face grew a bit pale. "What's in these, Al?" he asked casually.

"Let me guess," Al replied as he took a small bite of his calzone. "You didn't really read the list and just gave it to the butcher, right?"

"Um… yeah." Seeing the look at Al's face, he continued. "He asked me what type of salami I wanted and then rattled off a whole bunch of them. Da Sugo was one of them and I figured based on my knowledge of French and Spanish it would be okay."

Al laughed. "Sam, Salame da Sugo is a salami specialty of Ferrara. It's got a lot of organ meat in it. I figured since you'd bought it you were okay with it, that maybe you'd had something like that from your farm upbringing. Not many Americans appreciate it."

"Um. Well, Mom used to make stuff when Dad had some of the livestock butchered, but I didn't like it too much."

Al shook his head. "I'm sorry, Kid. That's what we're having for dinner."

Sam looked ruefully at his calzone, gazing at it with one of his lop sided grins. "Yeah. That's what Mom used to say too." He looked up. "I'm sorry, Al. I should have asked rather than assuming."

"It's okay, Kid. I guess I should have come in with you or written down that I wanted Salame Genovese. That's the more common type to Americans. I just didn't think they would be that specific." Al looked at how Sam was now picking at his food. "You want a sandwich instead?"

Sam shook his head. "No. Mom always told us we should eat what we were served." He saw Al looking a little downcast and then said cheerfully, "Hey Al, don't be like that. The calzone is really good. It was my fault that the meat in it isn't exactly my favorite."

"You don't have to eat it, you know."

"I know. But I will anyways." Sam took a sip of the wine. He didn't want this to turn into yet another point of contention between the two. "And as I say, it is good." He took another bite and chewed it, smiling.

Al knew that Sam was putting up a front. He realized that Sam was doing his best to keep things on an even keel between them. He certainly didn't want to rock the boat either. He smiled back and took a sip of his wine as well. "All right." He decided that a topic change might be in order. "What do you want to do tomorrow?"

"Well, I hadn't really thought…" He took a bite of his calzone and swallowed it, barely chewing.

"Give it up, Sam. You knew we'd be coming here. You've got to know what you want to do."

Sam looked over to Al and got the distinct impression that he just wanted to hear Sam's ideas. "I… ah… was thinking it might be nice to see some of the museums. I haven't been up to Santa Fe for awhile and figure there have probably been some changes in their exhibits."

Al nodded. "That sounds nice, Sam. I think I would like that as well."

After the meal was finished, Al and Sam cleared the table and cleaned up the kitchen. After they were finished, Al looked over to Sam. "What do you say we go out for ice cream?"

"Um. Not tonight, Al. I'm still feeling a bit dizzy. Probably all the excitement today."

Al smiled widely. "And the wine and the Killer Mexican Tsunamis."

"Yeah. That's probably a good part of it as well," Sam said, stretching. "I feel like I've been hit by a Mack truck."

Al noticed that Sam really looked beat. He'd been hoping for some chocolate ice cream but figured they could get it tomorrow. "How about we get some sleep instead?" Al suggested. "Get a good night's rest so we're ready for anything in the morning. Like your Eggs Bene Beckett."

"Sounds good, Al," replied Sam, "but that's Eggs à la Beckett. Mom's special. It was one of Dad's favorites."

Al nodded with a yawn. "Sounds great."

The two men headed towards their rooms. Al had taken the master suite and Sam had the smaller room just down the hall. "Night, Al," Sam called softly from his door. "See you tomorrow."

Al waved a good night to Sam and, closing the door, proceeded to change his clothing. Slipping on a pair of red silk pajamas, he slipped into the bed and turned off the lights.

Sam also headed into his room. He crawled into bed in his boxers and T-shirt. He figured he'd drop off to sleep quickly but the day's events kept flowing through his mind.

He thought about the previous week. The arguments the two men had had. The revelation that Ziggy's connection to them was more than just agitating the carbon quarks. It didn't make any sense to him. When he'd laid out the plan for the project, he hadn't expected the biological matrix to react quite this way. It bothered him that he hadn't seen this possibility. He'd been so careful to look at all the risks. The fact that one this big could have slipped past him upset him. He finally fell into a very uneasy sleep.

Several hours later, a brief but hard scream filled the house and Al sat up abruptly in bed, sweat drenching him. Even as he forced his heart to slow down, he noticed how his chest and stomach hurt.

"NO! Get away! I won't let you!" The screams continued. Al jumped up and ran down the hall towards the sounds. Opening the door he turned on the lights. Sam was sitting up in bed, terror on his face.

Sam had pushed himself against the headboard, panting hard as the lights came on in the room. "No! Get away!" he screamed at the form coming towards him. The voice changed to a plea. "Please, please! Don't! It hurts! Why are you doing this to me?" Tears had started flowing from the younger man's face.

Al frowned with concern, his own discomfort forgotten by Sam's frightened words. "Sam, take it easy." He approached the bed slowly, knowing that there was something definitely wrong. "Sam..." He touched his shoulder carefully, afraid of how the man would react. He'd seen people in this kind of half-awake/half-asleep state before. Hell, he'd experienced it himself too many times.

Sam leapt up and pushed Al down. The voice had changed pitch again. It was vicious. "No! Don't touch me!" Suddenly though, he backed off into the corner formed by the table and the bed, his hands in front of him. "No. I'll stop. I'll stop. Don't!" There was another scream of pain accompanied by a contortion of Sam's torso.

Al physically cringed at the scream, closing his eyes against memories that flitted through his mind. He swallowed tightly. Opening his eyes, he moved forward again. He needed to wake Sam up. No one likes nightmares but this one was obviously bad.

"Sam, wake up," he said gently at first. When it brought no results, he repeated himself a little more forcefully. "Sam, wake up!"

Sam looked at Al, his eyes tortured. Plaintively he begged, "Vui lòng! Tôi cầu xin bạn nhân danh Chúa trời, lòng nhân từ!"

Al froze at Sam's words and the look on his face. "You don't know Vietnamese," he whispered. "How can you..." He swallowed tightly before slowly lowering himself to the same level, sitting on the floor. "It's okay. You're safe."

At the sound of Al soothing voice and his non-threatening body language, Sam started to calm down. His eyes were still fixed but he seemed to be coming out of the nightmare. "Tom?" he asked softly and tentatively.

Al's eyes softened even more at the sound of the name. "No, Sam," he said gently. "Al. I'm Al. You're okay. You're... you're safe."

Sam came out of the nightmare fully. "Al?" He seemed to break down. "Oh, Al! I just had the most terrifying nightmare." He stopped for a moment trying to calm down even more. "It's... it's... the first time I've ever had it. I think I might have been dreaming of Tom."

Al swallowed tightly. "What... what makes you think that?" He wasn't so sure that it had been Tom Sam had been dreaming about.

Sam shook and took in a lungful of air, letting out a cleansing breath. "It was horrible, Al. I'm pretty sure I was in Vietnam. But they were... they kept hurting me... with whips and sticks... They kept ordering me to confess to something and I kept telling them I wouldn't." Tears started to trickle down his cheeks again. "So they... tied my arms behind my back and pulled them until I heard my shoulders pop..."

"Oh, gawd," Al whispered, suddenly feeling more sick to his stomach than he had felt when he had woken up. Scrambling to his feet, he hurried into the bathroom and dropped to his knees in front of the toilet.

Sam was still too weak to do anything. He called from his sitting position, fear again in his voice, "Al? What is it?"

Heaving whatever was in his stomach, Al clung to the sides of the toilet for a long moment before grabbing a handful of tissue and wiping his mouth with it. He tossed the offending paper into the toilet and flushed it roughly. Gasping, he leaned against the wall and swallowed again, trying to ignore the burn that now filled his throat.

"Al?" Sam repeated his eyes on the door. "Al, what is it?" When he didn't' receive an answer, he crawled over to the door and pushed it open, finding Al against the wall. "Al?"

Al didn't move from his seated position, instead pulling his legs up against his chest. He couldn't go out there again, not after what he knew Sam saw. All Al felt was humiliated beyond his control. "Go away," he whispered softly. "Please."

"Why? Why would a dream I had about Tom upset you?" Sam was still shaken by what he'd experienced in his dream. He'd never been so afraid in his life. The dream made his fear of heights seem like a Sunday picnic.

"What makes you think it was about Tom?" Al countered, not looking at him.

"Because it was Vietnam. I'm sure of that. Why would I dream of Vietnam if it wasn't Tom?" Sam really was confused. He'd had dreams off and on since Tom's death, but he'd never experienced torture. Usually, they were of someone ambushing him and being shot - occasionally being hit by shrapnel as a bomb went off close to him. But they had never included torture.

"Your brother wasn't a POW, though. You said so yourself. So how can you dream of those... those bastards? And when the hell did you learn to speak Vietnamese?" He was trying not to put the blame on Sam but he didn't want to just blurt out what he was thinking - that this connectivity between them was allowing Sam to see things that he didn't want to ever remember.

"What?" Sam asked confused. He looked at Al strangely. "I don't speak Vietnamese. You know that."

Al turned his head. "Well, guess what? You just did a few minutes ago while you were having that nightmare. Fluently. And guess what else? I do know Vietnamese... unfortunately."

Sam's face dropped. "You sure it wasn't Japanese? I don't speak Vietnamese! I'm not sure I've ever even heard it spoken."

"Vui lòng! Tôi cầu xin bạn nhân danh Chúa trời, lòng nhân từ!! There, now you've heard it," Al told him harshly.

"What does that mean?

"It means, ' Please! I beg you in the name of God, mercy!'" Al closed his eyes tightly. "You weren't dreaming of Tom, Sam."

"Then how else do you explain what I was dreaming! How else..." Suddenly Sam's face blanched. "Oh, my Gawd!" Sam looked at Al as the epiphany came to him. He whispered, "It was you. I was dreaming of what happened to you."

Al turned his head away from his friend, not wanting to look at the expression that was on his face. "I remember that day too well. First time they dislocated my shoulders. They didn't put them back in for days."

Sam's voice held an edge of anger as he cried, "That's inhuman!" He crawled closer to Al, and put his hand on his shoulder. "I... I... I'm sorry, Al. I'm so sorry." Tears started flowing again. "How did you..."

"Survive?" Al questioned. "Endure it? I did it because I had to." He closed his eyes, turning his head away from Sam as he swallowed.

Sam nodded. He pulled himself up so he was sitting next to Al. "That had to be the most terrifying experience I ever had... and for me it was only a nightmare." He paused and then softly added, "It felt like I was going to die."

Al didn't say anything. Nightmare or not, there was no way in hell Sam would ever understand what he had gone through. Al wished he didn't even have the inkling that he had now. "I... I need something for my stomach," he finally said, changing the subject and standing up.

Sam watched Al get up and walk out of the room. He was still haunted by the visions he had seen, the pain he'd felt within the nightmare. He was confused by the images he'd experienced. There was no context to put them in.

He didn't want to face that again, he knew that for sure. He suddenly understood from this glimpse that Al had experienced things that could only be described as monstrous. He'd always believed that Al's experience had been horrendous but now he'd experienced a small part of it himself. It wasn't just a thought; it was reality. He pulled his legs up and put his head down, tears wracking him. He knew that he was crying for both of them, but more for his friend. More than anything he wished Al had never had to face the real life demons that had caused tonight's distress.

Al had found a bottle of antacid in the kitchen. He shook out one and popped it in his mouth, chewing on it as he slowly made his way back to the bathroom, still carrying the bottle. Seeing Sam on the floor still, he looked at him with concern. "You okay?"

Seeing the tears on Sam's cheeks when he raised his head, Al tilted his head slightly, a pained look on his face. "Ah, Sam... Don't."

Sam's voice cracked with anguish. "I wish I could do something to take it away. I can't understand how one human could do that to another." He continued. "You didn't know what they were asking for and still they did that to you."

Al sighed, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. The Kid was hurting for him but he didn't want that. Neither could he just tell him to forget about it. He leaned against the doorframe. "Oh, I knew. They wanted me to sign a confession that I was a criminal and that the United States was an imperialistic state bent on world domination."

Sam bowed his head again. "I don't know if I'd have your courage or resolve. But it felt in the nightmare like I didn't know. If you knew... why did I experience the nightmare as my not knowing?"

"Probably because _you_ didn't know," Al told him. "How could you know? I never told you."

Sam nodded. What Al said made sense. Still it didn't change the way he'd felt during the nightmare. His mind turned towards why this would have even happened. They'd had a week and it hadn't happened before. Then he remembered a strange dream he'd had during the weekend. "Al? Do you remember dreaming anything strange on Saturday night?"

Al shrugged. "I don't know. I don't remember. I was with Yvette. I know that eventually we slept but it wasn't entirely restful." He groaned slightly, putting a hand on his belly. "Something bothering my stomach tonight, that's for sure." He frowned.

Sam looked at him. It was obvious he was on the trail of something but wasn't saying what yet. "Did you have anything to drink on Saturday night? Anything alcoholic that is."

"I had a little wine but that's nothing new," Al commented, popping the other antacid in his mouth. "Wine shouldn't be causing you to see my nightmares."

"It wasn't a nightmare, Al. More of a strange dream. I dreamt about being a small child and living in an apartment. There wasn't much food and I had to take care of Katie." He stopped. "But Katie wasn't really Katie. She was different. I'm not explaining this well."

Al lowered his eyelids. "She... didn't happen to have... Down Syndrome, did she?"

Sam closed his eyes, trying to remember the dream that had seemed so strange to him. Not frightening, as the one tonight was, but strange. "That might have been it. I know she was different and I had to protect her."

Al sighed and pushed away from the doorframe. "Until we can figure out how to get rid of this connectivity, no more alcohol and definitely no more Tsunamis."

Sam nodded enthusiastically, suddenly noticing his head was aching something fierce. "Yeah. That's a definite." He pushed himself off the floor. "I'm not sure I want to go back to sleep." He walked over to his bed and retrieved his bathrobe. "You want to play some poker or gin rummy?"

"Yeah, whatever," Al told him, chewing a third antacid.

They headed out to the dining room table. Sam found a set of cards on a shelf that had various games on it. He shuffled. "You call the game."

Al shook his head. "Anything is fine. I need some water or something." He started towards the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. "Do you want anything?"

"You said there was ginger ale?" Sam dealt out seven cards each. "Since you're letting me choose, gin rummy."

"Ginger ale it is," Al commented. Sam sat down at the table and went into the kitchen. He pulled out a couple of cans from the refrigerator and then a couple of glasses. After wiping the top of the cans and then the inside of the glasses, he put ice in them. Deciding that they were likely going to be up half the night, he also poured a bowl full of pretzels and started back with his hands full.

Once the two men were settled in, they started playing the game. Both of them knew it was only to pull them away from fear that sleep held for them at the moment. This night was not one either planned to replay anytime soon.

_Tuesday, August 31, 1993_

_5:30 a.m._

Both Sam and Al had played gin rummy almost until the sun came up. Neither wanted to go to bed again. Finally, though, Al indicated that he was beat and just wouldn't function if he didn't get a few hours rest. Sam agreed. He wasn't feeling the buzzing that had preceded the nightmares and felt that maybe things would be okay.

"I guess we can have the Eggs à la Beckett for brunch instead."

"Brunch à la Beckett," Al yawned. "Sounds good to me." He gave Sam a weak smile. "As long as it doesn't involve Tabasco sauce."

Sam grinned, "Well, I'll have it on the table... but it's not required that you use it." They headed back to the bedrooms. Right before going into his, the younger man turned. "See you in a couple of hours." He then headed in and crawled back into bed.

Al nodded and went into the bedroom, noting that he had left the lights on the night before. Shutting off the lights, he made sure that the curtains were closed before slipping into the bed. He was asleep within seconds of putting his head on the pillow.

Sam lay in his bed. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. The week's situations kept playing over and over in his mind. He went over everything again, allowing his thoughts to touch on his vast knowledge. There had to be a solution. There just had to be.

An idea kept popping up in his head. The moment when he was hit on the head by the muggers. Things had been a little rough before then, but afterwards, they just started spiraling into more and more irritation with each other. Sam wondered if that might have been a trigger. He was still thinking about this possibility when he finally drifted off to sleep.

_Tuesday, August 31, 1993_

_12:45 p.m._

Al woke with a grumble and rubbed his face before looking at the time. It was almost one o'clock and the house was quiet. _At least_, he thought, _we almost got eight hours sleep, even if it doesn't feel like it_. Getting out of the bed, he padded into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee before returning to the bedroom to change out of his pajamas and into a bathrobe. He needed a shower to fully wake up.

When he came out again, he could smell the freshly made coffee and decided to forego dressing just yet in favor of a nice hot cup of the nectar of life. Pouring a cup, he added a spoonful of sugar and stirred it well before taking a taste.

"Good afternoon," came from behind him. "I don't think I've ever slept this late before in my life!"

Al smiled as he looked up from his cup. "Made coffee." He poured a second cup and offered it to Sam, before going to the dining table to sit. "At least we still have enough time to have something to eat before we visit a couple of museums.

"Yeah." Sam took the cup from Al's hand. "Thanks." He took a sip and then put down the cup. "Let me get started on the eggs."

Al nodded. "Translation: stay out of the kitchen. Anything I can do?"

Sam shook his head. "Nah. I know Mom's recipe and can do it best by myself. But you can clean up afterwards if you'd like."

Al, knowing the hurricane that Sam was in the kitchen shook his head. "No way. You're going to help me with that."

Sam grinned. "Well, you can't blame me for trying! Why don't you just watch some TV while I get the eggs done?"

Sam went into the kitchen and started pulling out the food and equipment he needed. Al could hear him bustling around but not really saying much. Instead of watching television, Al had decided to get himself dressed for the day while Sam cooked. When he came out, about fifteen minutes later, Sam was putting the plates with what looked similar but not exactly like Eggs Benedict on the table.

"Egg's à la Beckett is served." Sam announced with a flourish.

"Looks great," he told him as he sat at the table.

"Yeah. This was a favorite at the house." Sam sat as well, taking his napkin and putting it in his lap. "I sure miss Mom's cooking."

Al looked over to him, hearing the ache. He knew that Sam seldom took a vacation away from the project. "You should go visit her and tell her that in person," Al said as he lifted a fork and took a bite. He nodded slightly before reaching for the Tabasco sauce.

"You sure you want to do that?" Sam knew that the heat of the Tsunamis had bothered the older man the night before.

Al looked at Sam with question. "What?" Looking at the Tabasco sauce, he chuckled slightly. "Habit," he admitted before putting the sauce back down.

Sam reached for the bottle. "But that doesn't mean I can't use it," he said with a grin.

The two men finished their meal and then went into the kitchen to clean it. Al was right. The place was a mess. "Geez, Sam! Can't you learn to clean up as you go?"

The physicist looked around the room. "What? This isn't that bad." At Al's raised eyebrows and jaundiced glance, he squirmed. "Okay, so it's somewhat messy. You gotta admit though, the eggs were really good."

Al nodded. "Yeah. They were really good, Sam." Seeing that the Kid needed to get ready if they were ever going to get out of the house, Al told him, "Why don't you go get cleaned up? I'll take care of the kitchen."

"You sure? I told you I'd help." Sam really seemed ready to follow Al's lead.

Al looked again around the kitchen and sighed. "No, I can probably get it done faster without you."

"Okay." Sam headed off to get his shower and get cleaned up. About 20 minutes later he reappeared, wearing a pair of jeans, his boots, belt, and one of his new western shirts. The cream colored one with the green shoulder inserts and pearl buttons. He was holding the hat that Al had bought him.

"Hey! You're styling!" Al commented with a grin as he looked up from the couch, catching the look on Sam's face that indicated he doubted the more flamboyant man's words. "No, seriously! You look great!"

Sam gave him a half grin. "I've been told I clean up nice." He threw off any more self examination with, "But if you want to get to any museums today, we'd better get going."

"Right," Al replied, standing abruptly and starting for the door. "Fine art, here we come!"

"Is that what you want to see? I guess then the Santa Fe Fine Art museum would be best to start. It's just off the main plaza."

"What is it that you want to see, Sam?" Al asked out of curiosity, noting the tone in Sam's voice.

"I'm okay with it, but there are a lot of choices. The Wheelwright Museum is close by and they have Native American art. There's the Palace of the Governors for history. But I'm good with the Fine Art Museum. I haven't been there in awhile."

Al rolled his eyes as he unlocked the car door. "I didn't ask if it was okay with you, Sam. I asked where it was that you wanted to go. I think all art is fine art so... it's really up to you."

"I know that, Al. I guess what I'm saying is, I can pretty much go with whatever right now. Heck... there's even the Museum of International Folk Art which is really cool. But it's not what everyone likes to see. I don't have a problem just seeing what you want to see."

Al sighed. "I hate when you do that. All right, get in. We're going museum hopping. If we time it right, we still can get at least three in today before they close."

Sam looked over to him. "You know... if we find we're enjoying one, I'm good with that as well. It's not like we have a checklist or anything."

"Are you getting in the car or are we going to argue about how long we stay at a museum?" Al complained with a slight glare before he slipped into the car, closed the door and started the engine.

Sam sighed. He opened the door and folded into the seat. He put on his seat belt and sat there twirling the hat in his hands.

Al shifted the car into gear and started driving, letting his own whim tell him where to go. Instead of the Santa Fe Fine Art Museum, they arrived at the Wheelwright Museum and Al parked a short distance from the entrance. "I'm in the mood," he explained to Sam as he opened the door.

Sam nodded. "Okay. Thanks." They both got out of the car and walked through the gravel parking lot to the little foyer. The sign indicated that the current showing was of the pottery of the Santa Clara Pueblo.

"Fantastic!" Sam exclaimed. "They do some very cool carved pieces."

Al grinned at how excited Sam had suddenly become and opened the door for him. "After you, Doctor," he told him before following him in.

They walked through the small museum. While the space was confined, the works of the Pueblo artists was incredible. "Did you know this pottery is all done by hand? The artist finds the clay and works it and then hand coils it instead of throwing the clay on a wheel."

Al just smiled at Sam's words. "Yeah, I know. It's beautiful."

"It really is incredible. To be able to get that level of symmetry and the precise carving all by hand. It's just inspiring."

Al was focused on a particular clay pot, examining the details on it. "Uh-huh," he said haphazardly, clearly not listening to Sam's words.

At the vague voice, Sam looked over at his friend. He seemed lost in one particularly beautiful piece. He figured at this point Al didn't even know he was there. He decided to go downstairs to the smaller exhibit room.

The two men spent the next hour looking at the various pieces, pretty much on their own. They occasionally passed each other but basically were enjoying the art in their own ways. Finally, Sam asked Al if he was ready to go and Al agreed. As they headed out to the car, Sam turned to his friend. "So. What do you want to do now?"

"What time is it?" Al asked, looking at his watch. "Another museum perhaps? Then some dinner and dessert?"

The physicist nodded. "Sure. We can still go to the Fine Art Museum if you want. That way we'd be close to the Plaza."

Al shook his head. "No. You mentioned the Museum of International Folk Art and it's just down the street from here. Why don't we go there?"

"You sure, Al? The artwork is just that... Folk. It's fascinating from a cultural standpoint but isn't fine art."

"Hey, like I said, all art is fine art to me," Al told him with a smile. "Besides, it'll save us time too. There's a nice restaurant I want to take you to close to here as well."

"Okay. Then let's go." The two men got in the car. The other Museum was very close so they arrived there quickly. Walking into the unassuming building, Al was immediately taken by the antique stage dioramas from the Victorian era.

Sam explained to him that the museum could only show about ten percent of its collection at any one time, but that the dioramas were part of the permanent collection that remained on display at all times.

They moved into the larger main collection and Al's eyes widened. "Sam, they have things from all over the world here. Textiles, figurines, painting on all sorts of surfaces. How did you ever find this place?"

"Well, next door is the Museum of Archeology and Anthropology. I was visiting that once and stumbled into this place."

"Now that I believe," Al commented wryly, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Still, you were right. This place is really different." They spent another hour at this museum and still hadn't seen everything. However, the museum was closing so they would have to leave.

The men headed out to the car yet again. On the way to the restaurant, Al told him how he'd found the little gem one evening when he was visiting Mike. It was a little Spanish restaurant that served tapas. Since the Spanish food was a bit less spicy than Mexican and Al didn't want a repeat of the previous night, he figured that would be good for them.

Sam agreed the place sounded fine. They pulled up to a little adobe building that looked like a house on the outside but when they went in, it felt as if they were walking into Old Spain. The spent about an hour and a half there enjoying the various taste combinations of the tapas. After the meal, Sam asked to go back by the house. He'd been breaking in his boots, but still being a bit stiff, he wanted to change out of them.

While Al had wanted to find a nice ice cream parlor - he still wanted a chocolate sundae - he decided that he would forego the indulgence another night. "Tomorrow... ice cream!" he announced plainly to Sam as a payment for returning to the house.

As soon as they got back to the house, Sam headed back to his room to get a more comfortable pair of shoes. When he came back out, Al was on the sofa and had a movie on.

Al picked up a VHS box showing it to Sam. "Hey... look what I found in Mike's collection. 'Some Like It Hot.'"

Sam took the box from him, looking at the pictures of the lead characters from one of the scenes on the box. "Yeah. We were supposed to watch that last week, right?"

Al nodded and gestured him over. "Come on and watch it with me."

"Sure." Before coming over, he refilled the pretzel bowl that Al had put out the night before. "You want something to drink?"

"Ginger ale is good," Al told him.

Jack Lemon and Tony Curtis were just arguing over whether or not to join a girl's band when Al accepted the ginger ale from Sam. He looked at it for a moment before frowning. "No glass?"

"You want a glass?" At Al's glare, he nodded. "Okay. Want ice too?"

Al rolled his eyes. "I would have thought that you'd know by now. Yes, I want ice. Three cubes."

Sam nodded again. Okay. Three cubes." He went to the kitchen to retrieve the glass. When he came back there were four pieces of ice in the glass.

Al stared at the glass for a moment. Didn't he just give him specific instructions? "I said, three cubes, Sam, not four.'

"Well, Al, the cubes seemed pretty small. So I put in four instead." Sam frowned and asked, "What's the difference?"

"The difference is that I said three cubes, not four. Three cubes will keep it cold; four will just water it down." He handed it back to him. "Three cubes."

"You want me to go back and take a cube out? You really are going to be that anal about three cubes?" Sam asked incredulously.

"I just told you, four will just water it down. I don't know about you but watered down ginger ale isn't exactly on my list of favorite drinks."

Sam voice dripped annoyance. "Al, it's not like it's going to sit in the glass that long. You make it sound like you're going to wait to drink it until they melt. Do you know how long that phase transition will take?"

"Less time than it will take for me to finish the drink," Al told him bluntly, standing up with the glass still in hand. "What? You can't even be nice enough to take a cube out?"

"Yeah, Al. I can take the cube out." He grabbed the glass and walked into the kitchen. Coming back in, he handed the glass back to Al. Three cubes were in the glass. "And, by the way, Al, the phase transition from ice to water would take a hell of a lot longer than it would take to finish your drink, not less. So how could it water down your ginger ale?" Sam's eyes were narrowing.

"Thank you," Al told him abruptly before sitting down again. He opened the can of ginger ale and was about to pour the soft drink into the glass when he stopped. He growled in growing frustration at seeing the streaks which were obviously on the inside of the glass. "Let me guess, you didn't wipe the glass first."

Sam couldn't believe a simple glass of ginger ale was becoming such a hassle to provide. He could feel the connectivity building, though. It was causing his head to hurt and the sharp pains were shooting behind his eyes again. He did his best to push the feelings away. "You wanted me to wipe the glass? Why didn't you suggest that when you told me to give you three ice cubes?" He wanted to say something more, but he was doing his best to restrain himself.

"I didn't think it was necessary," Al said as he stood and started for the kitchen. "But obviously, I'm sharing a house with a barbarian."

Sam followed him into the kitchen. He tried to defend himself. "Al, I may not be the neatest person in the world, but I'm not a barbarian."

"The hell you aren't," he muttered. "Drinking straight out of a can..." He dumped the ice into the sink and proceeded to rinse it carefully before wiping it down with a towel, making sure that there were no streaks as he did so. Then, opening the freezer, he noticed that there were only two cubes left in the tray. "Perfect. Just perfect. You made me toss out three perfectly good cubes and now there are only two left."

"You know, Al. There wasn't anything wrong with that glass. Water streaks are just dried water and trace minerals that are in the water in an area. It will be the same exact stuff as what's in the ice cube," Sam tried to explain. Al didn't look as if he were buying anything the younger man said. "And I didn't make you do anything."

"Those weren't water streaks genius. They were soap scum which means those cubes were covered with soap," Al retaliated. "What else was I supposed to do? Drink soapy ginger ale?"

"They weren't soap scum, Al. They were simple water streaks. You don't think I can tell the difference?" Sam's voice held an edge.

"Sometimes I wonder if you notice anything with the way you keep house!" Al told him abruptly, slamming the glass down on the kitchen counter.

"That's not fair. I may not be the tidiest person... I'll admit that but..."

"Damn right, you're not! I clean up after you all the time!" Al exclaimed marching to meet Sam face to face. "I feel like a damned maid following you around! Is this the way you were on the farm?"

"I pulled my weight on the farm. I took care of my chores and whatever was asked of me. And I'm willing to do my part when you ask me to do things too. You just have to ask instead of expecting me read your mind."

"Oh, I get it! No initiative gene in your blood!" Al said with a sarcastic smile. "You don't clean up after yourself unless someone _tells _you too!" He huffed. "You are the most untidy person I've ever met! You know, Sam, it's not just the untidiness. It's how you live your life. No wonder your brother went to Vietnam! I'm sure he didn't want to have to keep taking care of everything for you!"

Sam stood there stunned. He didn't say anything for a moment and then breathed, "Al. I can't believe you'd say something like that! You really think that Tom went to Vietnam to get away from me?"

"It wouldn't surprise me," Al told him with a glare. "Hell, you can't even send a requisition form in on time. I'm surprised you don't have servants to wait on you hand and foot!"

Sam turned and walked out of the room.

It took a few minutes for Al to calm down again. _Dammit. Why do I keep doing that? I know it's that stupid computer of his! I shouldn't be flying off the handle like that. It was just a couple of stupid ice cubes!_ Suddenly he heard the soft sounds of a piano being played. He walked out into the living room area and found Sam at the piano. His back was to Al.

Al stood there in the doorway, watching the younger man play softly on the baby grand. As he watched, the music became louder and more dramatic. He'd known for several years that Sam could play. He'd been amazed when Sam had told him he'd played at Carnegie Hall when he was 19 years old. That was 21 years before the present and, from where Al was standing, his friend could certainly play there again.

Watching Sam, he could feel the emotions that were washing through the physicist and out into keyboard as his fingers danced along the black and white keys. He waited until the last bars of Moonlight Sonata were finished. Al walked over to Sam. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that about Tom. I know it wasn't true."

"I know you didn't mean it, Al. It's just…" Sam seemed to struggle to get the next words out. "…it's just that, well, I think I have to shut down Ziggy." The Kid's body language was totally and completely defeated.

Al's eyes got larger. He looked at Sam, realizing how much of a cost this was to the physicist to say those words. "You can't."

Sam looked up suddenly, his eyes blazing. "What do you mean I can't? I built him, I can shut him down."

Al's own anger started to come to the fore but he suddenly realized the connectivity was in play. Looking at Sam now, seeing him ready to turn his back on his dreams, Al instead softly stated the truth. "But you'd be shutting down the project."

Sam closed his eyes. Just before doing so, he'd pulled the anger away, pushing it back inside. Instead, the next words out of Sam's mouth were calm and final. "I know."

Al saw the pain this was causing Sam and responded to his decision. "No."

Sam looked up at Al with disbelief. "What?"

Shaking his head he looked Sam directly in the eyes. He grabbed the physicist's arm to make him listen. "I said no. Absolutely not. This little issue isn't going to interfere with your dream, Sam. You've waited too long."

Sam pushed away from Al and stood up, walking to the window. He looked out into the New Mexican night. His voice indicated the angst he was feeling. "But this arguing is driving me nuts."

Al shrugged. "We'll get used to it."

Sam turned around suddenly, his next words tinged with sarcasm. "Oh, now that sounds like a pleasant thought. Spend the rest of my life fighting with my best friend, hopefully never share blood curdling nightmares again."

Al shook his head and pointed out the reality as he saw it. "You don't know if this is permanent, Sam. It could change."

This time Sam looked at Al with a sadness that came from the depths of his soul. His green eyes presented a gleam that showed that Sam had past a breaking point. "I don't think so, Al. My analysis indicates something physical would have to happen for things to get to an acceptable level. I may occasionally wish to knock you into next week…"

"…and I've wanted like to throw a shoe at you more times then I can count on both hands and feet…"

"…but I'm not going to have either of us having to risk that. So, yeah, this might be permanent."

"Then we'll get used to it. Sam, I'm not going to let you give up on your dream. I've seen your equations. You are truly on the verge of another Nobel for this work. We'll find a way to work through this."

Sam sighed deeply. His stance showed that he was close to tapping into that stubbornness that would prevent any further discussion. Sam felt he was right in making this decision. Still, there was a sliver of potential to change his mind. "I don't know, Al."

Al grabbed the sliver with both hands. He had to make the Kid see reason. He needed time. "Listen, let's just not do anything too quickly. Think about it. And the best way to think about anything, in my humble opinion is over ice-cream. How about it? Besides, my sweet tooth is acting up. Come on, Sam. I'll buy."

Sam at first started to say no again, but seeing that Al's desire for the ice cream had been building since they arrived in Sante Fe, nodded instead. The two headed off to find a place to obtain Al's favorite frozen concoction. Finding a place close to the Plaza, they ordered. Once their choices were prepared, they went over to a table. Sam had gotten a bowl of French Vanilla, Al a Rocky Road.

Al took a bite of his ice cream. He closed his eyes and sighed. "Ummmm…chocolate." The way Al stated it he was in seventh heaven and planned on staying there quite a while.

Sam shook his head and continued eating his ice cream. As he dipped the plastic spoon into the frozen concoction, it cracked. Sam looked at the spoon and then continued to scoop up some ice cream with it.

"Don't you think you should get another spoon?"

"Nah, this one will be all right." Sam took the bite off the spoon. "See," he said mouthing around the ice cream.

"Fine. The man with six doctorates can eat with a broken spoon."

Sam smiled and then scooped up another mouthful. As he was pulling the ice cream off the spoon, he suddenly grimaced. "Ow!"

"What?"

Sam had picked up his napkin and dabbed it on his tongue. "Darn it, I cut it." He took another scoop of the ice cream and held it against the injured organ.

"What the hell are you doing?" Al asked with amusement.

Speaking around the ice cream, Sam explained. "I'm bleeding. The ice cream acts as a cold compress."

Al looked at him askance. "You know, you look like a dork."

The first compress had melted and Sam swallowed the ice cream. He dabbed at the cut area again. "Oh, yeah? Well, this 'dork' isn't bleeding anymore. It was a medically sound approach."

Al chuckled, "You still looked like a dork." He took another bite of his own ice cream.

Sam laughed. "Yeah, well, you don't look exactly brilliant with that chocolate on your face," he said, pointing at the tip of Al's nose.

With a sarcastic grin back, Al wiped off the offending chocolate. Sam obtained another spoon and they continued eating and talking. They were just about finished with their ice creams when the sound of broken glass was heard in the ice cream parlor. "What was that?" Al asked.

Shrugging, Sam replied, "I don't know. Sounded like it came from behind the counter. Probably they just broke a glass dish or something."

Al scrapped the bottom of his bowl, trying to get the last remnants of the ice cream out of the dish. "You know, that's two broken things. Usually things come in threes."

Sam looked at Al as if he'd just dropped off the turnip truck. "What are you talking about?"

"It's an old saying, Sam," was the Italian's explanation.

"There's nothing to it though. You know that."

"I don't know. Those old sayings sometimes have something behind them."

Sam huffed. "It's a superstition, Al."

"How do you know?"

Sam couldn't believe that the man across from him who had once traveled from Earth to the Moon and back could even entertain such a ludicrous stance. "Because it makes no sense that totally unrelated phenomena could be related like that."

"Still, who really knows? The car could be next."

Sam rolled his eyes. He got up and went to the bar with the napkins, spoons, and various items to put into coffee. He picked up a plastic spoon, put it on the floor and smashed it. "There, Al. That's three things broken. Can we drive back to the house now?"

Al looked over to Sam wondering if the Kid had finally lost it. "What did you do that for?"

Sam pursed his lips and his forehead creased in pain. "Listen, Al, I've got a headache. This Ziggy thing is really causing my head to hurt. I'm not sure I'm getting used to this. I'm not sure I want to try. Besides, now there are three broken things, so you don't need to worry about the car. Can we just leave?"

Al nodded, surprised a bit at Sam's insistence. "Sure, Sam. We can leave." He was feeling a bit down. He'd been trying just as hard to keep the connectivity issue at bay. He figured that since they used Sam's brain cells and only his nerve cells, maybe the connectivity was bothering Sam more than him.

They headed out to the car. Sam had picked up the keys from the table. "Hey, Sam, throw me the keys."

Sam shook his head. "No. I'm going to drive."

"You have a headache," Al pointed out logically.

"Yeah, and I want something to distract me from it. Driving will do that."

"I don't know, Sam. That doesn't seem like a really good idea."

Sam nodded. "Maybe not, but I want to drive. Hell, you've been driving the whole way and talking about how nice the car drives. We're just driving back to the house. It's not that far. I'm driving."

Al put his hands up and walked over to the passenger side. "Okay, Sam. Okay. You drive."

Sam nodded and got in behind the wheel. He adjusted the car to fit his larger frame. He'd checked the mirrors three times before Al finally stated, "They're fine, Sam. I'm sure you can see everything behind you now just fine."

Sam defended his actions. "Hey, I just want to be safe."

"I know, Kid, but there is a point of diminishing returns."

"Fine," Sam answered petulantly. He turned the key and, after checking traffic, pulled out and started driving down the narrow streets of the plaza area. They had gone about four blocks when a car came out of one of the right hand side streets going way too fast. Sam tried to stop but it was too late. The car plowed into the vehicle on the passenger side.

For a moment everything seemed loud and surreal. It took Sam a moment before his mind registered what had happened. The driver's side air bag had deployed. Sam shook his head. His left shoulder had hit the side of the car and was feeling bruised. "You okay, Al?" Hearing no answer, he turned his head towards his friend.

There was blood on the dash in front of Al, more to the right side than the left. "Oh, God! Al!" Sam jumped into motion, pulling open the door on his side and running around to Al's side. The other driver was getting out of his vehicle, a bit dazed but with no obvious injuries. There were some store owners who peeked their heads out. "Someone call an ambulance!" Sam cried out the words as he realized that there was no way to get to Al from that direction. He rushed back to reenter the car from the driver's side again.

Finding his way to Al blocked by the airbag, he pulled a pen knife out of his pocket and popped the deployed airbag. Reaching over, he checked the older man as best he could, glad to see that breathing did not seem to be a problem. He noted the rather large knot forming over his friend's right eye and the gash down his arm. It was bleeding profusely. Using the fact that it was rhythmically gushing, he knew it was an arterial tear and that Al faced a distinct possibility of bleeding to death if he couldn't slow it down. He reached over Al's body and applied pressure. "Al! Everything's going to be all right, buddy. I'm going to get you out of this."

He didn't know exactly how long they were like that. It seemed like hours before Sam heard the sirens of emergency vehicles approaching. Logically, he knew it was probably just minutes but with Al in such danger, he really had lost track of time.

When the EMT's arrived, they found that they needed to use the jaws of life to extract Al from his position. During the entire procedure, Sam continued to apply pressure to Al's wound, knowing that it could mean the difference between him living and dying.

After what seemed to be an eternity, the EMT's pried Sam away from Al. Sam had tried to keep close to Al, yelling at them, "I'm a doctor! I can help him!"

One of the EMT's, a Mr. Masters from the name on his shirt, pulled harder on Sam while his friend started stabilizing Al. "You may be, but we have the training for this specific thing. If you are a doctor, you know your friend will have a better chance if you let us do our jobs."

Sam looked at the EMT, fear streaming from his eyes. Seeing the calm in the emergency worker's eyes, he nodded. Finally he breathed out slowly, "Okay. I know. Just save Al."

The EMT looked at Sam. "Don't worry. Your friend is in Mr. Fuller's capable hands. I need to examine you too." The man started to check Sam, shining a penlight in his eyes and running his hands along his arms and neck.

"I'm fine! Go take care of Al!" He grimaced as the EMT found the large bruise on his shoulder.

"I need to see that shoulder."

"I told you, I'm fine! Al's that one that needs your help!"

"Sir. Please let me do my job. You're friend is doing fine. Mr. Fuller would call me over if he was having difficulties. I need to check you and I need to check the other driver as well." He'd looked at the shoulder while talking with Sam and indicated that he'd be sore but didn't need emergency room services.

He next went over to the driver who had hit them. The man was sitting on the curb, his head in his hands. The EMT checked him over quickly and then left.

Finally, Mr. Masters joined his partner and both EMT's continued to work on Al, getting him prepared to move to the hospital emergency room. In the meantime Sam walked away from the car. The man that had been driving the other car staggered over to him. "I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean to hit you."

Sam felt the rage building within him. He could smell the scent of alcohol flowing off of this man. He got up into his face. "You son of a bitch! If my friend dies because of your drinking and getting behind the wheel…"

A police officer rushed up to the scene and pulled Sam back, "What? What if your friend dies?"

"I… I… don't know what! But, I swear, he'll pay!"

"Why don't you let us handle that, sir?" The one officer pulled Sam to one side of the street and the other officer pulled the drunk driver to the other.

Sam watched as Al was eased out of the car, stabilized but pale. The EMT's had placed a neck brace on him and were maneuvering him out of the vehicle and onto a gurney.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Officer Phantan asked.

"Um. Yeah. I was driving down Don Gaspar and this bozo comes flying out of a side street and hits my car." He watched as the gurney was taken to the ambulance. "Hey, is there any way I can go with him?" Sam was still a bit agitated. He could feel the energy being sapped from him by the second.

"No. Only the EMT's and the patient. But we'll make sure you get to the hospital as soon as back up gets here."

"Thank you." Sam suddenly fell back against the car. He reached for his forehead.

"Are you okay?" asked the officer, concern in his voice and eyes. He knew the EMT had cleared this man.

"Yeah, I think so. I think it's just the shock of it all catching up to me."

Another police car pulled up to the scene. Sam watched as the other driver was handcuffed and put into the back of that car. Officer Phantan's partner walked back over. "Breathalyzer is going to go off the charts with that one."

It was another fifteen minutes before Sam arrived at the hospital. He made a beeline to the Emergency Room desk. "How is Al Calavicci?"

"Are you a family member?" 

"No. I'm his partner though. He has listed me as his emergency contact."

The woman nodded and looked down. "He's currently in surgery."

"For what?"

"Repair of the artery in the right arm and internal bleeding. And they were concerned with the head injury as well."

Sam nodded and rubbed at his temple. "Is there a place I can wait for him?"

She smiled. "Yes. There is a waiting room on the third floor. It's close to the surgical suite. I'll make sure the doctor knows you'll be there."

With that, Sam went to hold his quiet vigil. He'd been sitting in the room for thirty minutes when he realized something. He wasn't feeling the same level of connectivity with Al. There was a faint, almost non-existence buzz that played along his neurons, but nothing like what he'd felt the past week. He hoped that didn't mean Al was dying.

"Come on, Al! You've got to pull through. I don't want to lose you, too!"

Sam had been raised in the church in Elk Ridge. While he seldom attended church currently, he did pray and did so now. Fervently. He couldn't imagine not having Al as his partner and his friend. Sam prayed hard and long. Eventually, though his body was worn out and he fell into sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**THE OTHER SIDE OF LIFE**

**CHAPTER TEN**

_Wednesday, September 1, 1993_

_2:00 a.m._

A light shaking woke Sam from his much needed rest. "Mr. Beckett?" a voice invaded his dreams. "Mr. Beckett?" the voice repeated, finally getting a result. "Ah. Good. You're awake. I'm Dr. Shetfield."

Sam looked up and rubbed at first his face and then his neck. The chair wasn't the most comfortable he'd ever slept in. "Um… yeah." Suddenly realizing where he was, he asked "How's Al?"

Dr. Shetfield looked at him, and paused before answering. "Well, he's in critical but stable condition. That means..."

Sam stopped him. "I know what that means. I have an MD as well. What's his immediate prognosis? The nurse indicated the arterial gash and internal bleeding and that you were concerned about the head wound. Were there any complications?"

The doctor coughed gently. "All right. You have the background so I'm going to tell you. Al suffered a major trauma to his right side. We were able to fix the arterial gash. There will be additional scar tissue that forms. I don't think I've ever seen that much scar tissue on a patient before."

Sam nodded. "That's from the war. He, um, well... had to face some very unpleasant conditions."

Dr. Shetfield nodded. "Yes. From what I saw, the man must have faced hell." He paused. "Strangely enough, though, that may actually help him through this. Anyone with that kind of strength of will can fight through damn near anything."

Sam nodded. He understood what the doctor was saying but he needed to know how much worse things were. "What else?"

The Doctor nodded. Sam obviously wanted things served straight up. "His spleen had to be removed. There was simply too much damage to repair it. We see a lot of those injuries due to seatbelt damage." He paused a moment. "And we are still concerned regarding the head injury. It was very close to the eye and we're not sure whether he will lose sight in his right eye or not. We'll have to wait until he awakens to check that."

Sam closed his eyes at the report. It was bad, but he knew it could have been worse. He gave a silent thanks to God that at least Al was alive for now. The rest he'd face as time went on. "Can I see him?"

Dr. Shetfield looked at him carefully, "I understand that he has named you as next of kin. Are you a family member?"

Sam shook his head. "No. At least, not by blood. But I guess I'm the closest he has to family." He whispered under his breath. "I know that he feels that way to me."

Shetfield nodded his head slightly. "You can see him but only for a few minutes."

Sam nodded. "I understand, although if there is anyway I could stay close to him. I want to be there when he wakes up. Let him know I'm here for him."

Shetfield hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you, Doctor."

Dr. Shetfield asked a nursing assistant to take Sam up to Mr. Calavicci's room. Sam corrected the doctor gently, telling him that Al should be addressed as Admiral. Dr. Shetfield stated they would change his records to reflect his title. The young woman led Sam to an ICU unit.

Sam was not surprised by the medical equipment attached to either the outside of his friend's body or, such as the IV's, entering it. He reached over and took Al's hand. He started to say something but the words caught in his throat. Hoarsely he pushed out, "Gawd, Al. I'm sorry. I should have let you drive. Then you wouldn't have to face another battle."

The older man didn't react to Sam's heartfelt words. There wasn't even a flicker of recognition that another human being was in the room.

Sam pulled the chair in the corner up beside the bed. "Al, I'll be here for as long as they let me. I won't leave until I know you're going to be all right. I promise you that."

He knew there wasn't anything more he could do. Sam understood that much of medicine was simply placing the patient into a position where they could heal, providing what support was necessary. But he also knew there was medical support and the support that came from the human side of the equation. And always there was prayer

Several quiet minutes passed as Sam sat with Al, gently holding his hand, before Dr. Shetfield came into the room.

Sam looked up at the doctor, hope in his eyes that they wouldn't pull him away from Al. "What..."

Shetfield raised a hand to silence him. "I'm afraid that we can't let you stay here in the ICU but there is a motel just across the street. I've already reserved a room in your name should you need it," he told Sam. "However, you can remain here for another half hour as long as you remain out of the nurses' way."

"Of course. I don't want to jeopardize my friend any more than has already occurred."

"Is there anything I can get for you in the meantime?" Shetfield asked after a moment of quiet. "Cup of coffee?"

Sam shook his head. "No. I'll be fine. Will I be able to stay with him during visiting hours during the day? And I'd like to be notified if there is any change in his condition no matter what time it may occur."

"You're quite welcome to stay during visiting hours," Shetfield assured him. "And I will personally make sure that you are informed if there are any changes."

Sam thanked the Doctor again. He knew that at least part of the man's willingness to bend the rules were professional courtesy. Still, it meant a great deal to him. Dr. Shetfield wished him well and then indicated that he had rounds to attend to. He left saying he would see him again soon.

For the next thirty minutes, Sam kept his hand on Al's arm. He spent each moment he had been given praying for the recovery of his friend.

_Wednesday, September 1, 1993_

_3:00 a.m._

Sam went across the street to the motel to let them know that he would need the room the following night but would not require it that night. He would have to go back to the house and pack things up. The motel owner understood. The motel being across the street from the hospital meant that this scenario had been played out many times.

Sam called a taxi and headed back to the house. He walked in and locked the door. He looked around the room. Yeah, it was still messy. Al was right. He did tend to be more on the messy side than not. He went through the rooms, picking up and straightening them.

As he finished putting away the dishes that Al had washed after the brunch, he found it was four a.m. Visiting hours were in a few hours and he'd made a promise to Al. He wasn't going to break it. He finally walked back to the bedroom area. He closed the door to Al's room. Somehow it made it feel like he was there.

He padded into his room. Again, he was taken by the differences in their styles. Sam's towel was still on his bed, his boots in the middle of the room.

He thought back to the argument tonight. He knew that at least part of the problem was that the connectivity with Ziggy was still a factor. Still, did Al really mean any of what he said? Had he? Sam went over in his mind again the events that had taken place in the past week from the moment that Ziggy had been turned on.

Looking at the situation 20/20, he realized that the situation for the first few days, up until they had left the project had been annoying but it hadn't been that difficult either. He had finally gotten upset enough to say something uncalled for to Al and for that he was sorry. Indeed, now all he wanted to do was apologize to his pal.

Then he'd been mugged and everything had started getting worse. He thought back to Albuquerque and the totally idiotic action he'd taken when he saw Al in the bar. He _knew_ that Al seldom if ever drank anymore, and still he'd done the unforgivable and questioned that by sniffing his glass. Some friend he was.

Still, Al had been willing to give him another chance. And yet, in Taos, things had continued to get worse. So much so that it took third parties, seeing their actions to point out what the problem was. _Yeah. A whole lot of good six doctorates are if I couldn't even see that I'd caused this to happen! I should never have done this if I didn't know for certain._

After they'd realized what was wrong, it became easier to determine when something was happening between them. Still, there was the nightmare the other night. Sam had felt the terror and fear while encased in the horrid dreamscape and thinking back realized that Al had been incredibly upset about it as well. Sam suddenly realized it wasn't just the nightmare itself that bothered Al; it was the fact that Sam now _knew _the hell that Al had lived though. Or at least had an inkling. Sam knew he'd never reach the level of understanding as someone who actually lived through it.

Sam shook his head. _That must have been what tonight was all about. Al wouldn't say anything to me directly so he took it out on me the only way he could! He was upset that my building Ziggy and merging our cells in the matrix had allowed me to really see what Vietnam was like to him! _Sam knew that was a sore spot with Al because he'd never been willing to talk to him much about those dark days even though Sam had offered to listen, to let him get it out. Al had told him there were some dark secrets that should just remain secrets. By building Ziggy, he'd learned about some of those hidden memories.

Still, Sam would ask for the past week's problems to come back in a minute if he could just know that Al was going to be okay. He hoped when he got to the hospital in a couple of hours that Al would be on the mend.

With that thought he crawled into bed and fell into a very unsatisfying sleep.

_Wednesday, September 1, 1993_

_1:00 p.m._

Sam had been at the hospital sitting next to Al for the past six hours. He brought a couple of the books he'd brought on the trip with him and passed the time reading. He'd only left Al's side to use the restroom which he'd mostly taken care of at the times the nurses kicked him out of the room.

He hadn't been able to get all of the luggage together this morning and still make it to visiting hours. There was no way he'd be late. He planned to go back tonight and collect both his and Al's possessions and bring them back to the motel room.

Nancy Balmer, Al's nurse on this shift, walked into the room. "Dr. Beckett?" When he didn't answer, she spoke a bit louder. "Dr. Beckett, sir?"

Sam looked up. "Hi. I'm sorry, Nancy. I guess I was lost in thought."

"Um, I'm going to have to ask you to leave again. We'll need about a half hour. You might go get yourself some lunch. The cafeteria isn't really too bad, but there's some fast food places around too."

The physicist rose from his chair, stretching to get the kinks out of his back. "I'll just go to the cafeteria, just in case he wakes up. You'll be able to contact me there." He started to walk out the door. "Are there payphones there as well?"

"Yes. In the hall right before you reach the cafeteria."

Sam nodded. He went to the elevator and pushed the button to take him to the basement where the cafeteria was located. Finding the pay phone, he put in his calling card and began to dial the ten digits that would put him in contact with the project. He softly voiced each number as he dialed "505-555-2231." He noted the phone was picked up on the second ring. He asked the operator to connect him with Dr. Gushman.

"Umm... Hello?" a timid sounding voice answered after the phone rang several times.

"Gooshie? This is Sam. I have some bad news." Sam hesitated to say anything more. He knew there wasn't any sense to the idea, but somehow, not saying directly that Al was laying in the ICU and wasn't yet out of the woods sort of made it seem it wasn't really true.

Gooshie frowned for a moment, confused that Dr. Beckett was calling. "Dr. Beckett, I thought that you were here. Umm... What... what bad news?"

Sam chuckled. He'd forgotten how out of touch with reality his head programmer could be at times. They'd been gone for a week and the man still didn't know they were gone. "Maybe we should get Tina on the line as well." Sam was afraid if he just told Gooshie, the man might not let anyone else know.

"If you want," Gooshie agreed. His voice could be heard over the speaker as he spoke to someone. After a moment, there was a slight popping sound and then a high pitched feminine voice.

"Sam... like, what's wrong?"

Sam grinned slightly. He knew there were those who never realized just how intelligent a woman Tina really was. Her voice was what put most off. But Sam knew that Tina would make sure that the right people knew what was going on with Al and himself. He greeted her, "Hi, Tina...Um, I thought you'd all want to know. There's been an accident..."

"An... an accident?" Gooshie questioned, his voice filled with concern.

"What accident?" Tina asked. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. But, Admiral Calavicci... Al... has been injured."

"Oh, my gawd! What happened?" Tina exclaimed. Sam could imagine both hers and Gooshie's shocked faces at the news. He knew they'd both be concerned.

"A drunk driver broadsided us last night. Al had emergency surgery. He's..." Sam had to stop for a moment. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "He's in the ICU right now. The doctors aren't sure for how long."

"How... how bad is he?" Gooshie asked, his voice shaking more than it normally would.

"Well, he's stable. But it could still go either way. He hasn't regained consciousness yet. They have no idea when he will. For now, we can just wait and pray."

"Is... is there anything we can do?" Tina asked.

"Um. Al's getting the best care possible. As I say, it's just a matter of time." Sam realized that as one of the partners, he hadn't yet asked about the project. "How are things going there since we've been gone?"

Ziggy decided at that moment to break into the conversation. "Hello, Doctor Beckett. I am pleased to inform you that all is well. Both you and the Admiral may return at your convenience. That is, when the Admiral has recovered, of course."

"Hello, Ziggy." Sam's voice held a slight annoyance. "I won't be back until Al is on the mend. I'm not leaving him."

"As you wish," the parallel hybrid computer replied. "Your vocal intonations indicate that you are emotionally irritated..."

"Ziggy, I don't think that now is the time..." Tina interrupted the computer.

"Tina? Gooshie? Would the two of you leave the control room for now? And take any technicians who may be working there at the moment. I want to have a discussion with Ziggy. I promise I'll call you with any updates on Al's condition."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. "As you wish, Dr. Beckett," Gooshie replied before informing everyone to leave the Control Room.

Sam waited for a few moments for the room to clear. "Are you alone now, Ziggy?"

"Affirmative, Dr. Beckett," Ziggy answered. "What is it that you wish to discuss?"

"Did you know last week what was happening through the biological matrix of your computer chips?"

"Please clarify, Doctor Beckett," Ziggy requested.

"Did you understand what was causing the emotional distress between Admiral Calavicci and me?"

"Are you referring to the increased sensitivity within the biological matrix?"

Sam hedged. "Perhaps. Tell me what the predicted outcome of this increased sensitivity was."

"I predicted a 95.8 percent probability that it would increase the relational friction between both you and Admiral Calavicci. I also predicted a 98.3 percent probability that the effects would diminish within four days."

"That didn't happen, Ziggy. Admiral Calavicci and I spent the last eight days arguing needlessly with each other. If you knew this, why did you remove us from the project?"

"I believed it was in the best interest of the project staff not to be subjected to the negative ramifications of the increased frictions. In addition, I believed you had been working too hard and required what humans term 'down time.'"

"And you didn't think it might be a good idea to tell us what was happening?"

"I felt it would be wise to allow the two of you to figure out your own solution. Additionally, I wasn't one hundred percent sure of all the parameters."

"Ziggy, you'll never be one hundred percent sure of anything. That's why I programmed you to determine probabilities. In any case, things got worse and not better."

"That was due to an unexpected situation. The fact that you allowed yourself to be physically injured by the two men who took my handlink..."

"They had a gun to my head! They would have killed me, Ziggy!"

"That was not a valid parameter in my calculations, Doctor. As I was saying, the injury you sustained created a stronger relational sensitivity between you and Admiral Calavicci. Thus, the friction became greater and the connectivity between you increased exponentially."

"Then why can't I feel it now?" Sam voice held an anguish that mirrored his soul.

"I do not know, Doctor Beckett. That is not within my current analysis parameters. If you choose to return to the project, perhaps you can develop an algorithm to address that question."

"I told you, Ziggy, I'm not leaving Al." He took a deep breath. "Ziggy, keep working on this situation. Pull whatever data you need from accessible databanks. I want to know why I can't feel Al anymore."

"Of course, Dr. Beckett. Will that be all?"

"Yes. For now. Tell Gooshie and Tina they can come back in. Let them know I need them to keep working on the programming. I'll call again when I can."

"I will inform them." There was a pause. "And I will continue to consider the ramifications of a positive outcome for the Admiral."

"Are you saying you are hoping he gets well?"

"I believe that would be a close approximation of my output." With that concession, the phone went dead.

Sam looked at the receiver and shook his head. What was he thinking? And why the hell did he choose Barbra Streisand?

He hung up the phone and went into the cafeteria, choosing a pre-made tuna sandwich and a bag of chips. He obtained a cup of coffee and then paid the cashier. He found a small table in the corner of the dining area.

Biting into the sandwich, his memory was pulled back to the days when he was an intern. He wondered if every hospital cafeteria had the same recipe for a tuna sandwich. They all had slightly too much mayonnaise and not enough pickles. Still, considering that he hadn't had anything else to eat today, it tasted pretty damned good. Between bites he sipped on his coffee.

It took a few minutes to finish the food. After disposing of the trash, he headed back up to the fifth floor to spend the next five hours beside Al's bed. _Come on, Al. You've fought off worse crises before. This should be a piece of cake for you! _ was his thought has he reentered the room. He noticed that the sheets and Al's hospital gown had been changed. He just wished the expression on his best buddies face had as well. He sat down and continued his vigil by Al's side.

_Wednesday, September 1, 1993_

_7:00 p.m._

By the time that Sam had reached the house again, the sun was preparing for its evening slumber. He went first to the laundry to put the sheets and towels in the dryer. He'd stripped the beds earlier that morning and had taken bedclothes and towels and washed them in the laundry room. While he was waiting for them to dry, he went into his room to pack.

As in unpacking, it didn't take Sam long to put his clothes and toiletries in the bag. He took it and the computer bag and put them in the foyer. He then turned to Al's room.

Walking in, he couldn't help but notice the scent of Al's aftershave, just as he had that morning when he'd stripped the bed. Al had told him he liked it because the fragrance embodied the Italian style and hinted of passion. Sam wasn't the best at identifying scents but he felt Al's brand involved a combination that hinted of citrus and spice. Somehow, the scent and Al seemed made for each other.

Now he went to the closet and found Al's clothing, precisely hung, a color coded pattern evident. He removed each piece carefully, knowing that Al treated his clothing as he did women: with respect and care.

Sam thought back again to the totally unfair and vicious words that had started this entire road trip. Al screw his project? Never. Never in a thousand years. Sam knew that with every fiber of his being and yet he'd said it. He wished now that he could take it back, even though he now understood that the 'relational friction,' as Ziggy called it, had brought those words to his lips. He wished he could return to that point in time and never breathe that sentence. Perhaps, then, they wouldn't have left the project and Al wouldn't be lying in a hospital room fighting for his life.

He finished carefully folding each piece of clothing, giving each the precise attention that their owner would treat them with. Once they had all been put into the proper configuration, he placed each into Al's suitcase which he noted was soft Italian leather. The items that required it were placed in the garment bag that Al had brought as well. He also made sure that Al's toiletries were packed. Once everything was put away, he took them to the foyer and left them with his items.

He walked through the rooms again. He found the bag with Tina's health food and the other bag that held not only his books but also the bolo tie he'd purchased for Al in Taos. He took it out and looked at it again. A thought flitted through his mind that he hoped that Al would be around to open the present three and a half months hence. He carefully rewrapped the bolo and placed it back in the bag, taking it to be placed with the others.

Checking again to assure that his room was thoroughly devoid of his personal possessions, he then went back into Al's room. In the closet, he found a fairly large wrapped rectangle which he recognized as the picture Al had said Yvette had given to him. As he held the picture, he recalled that Al had wanted him to look at it. He decided his friend wouldn't mind if he did so now. He took the picture with him and went into the living room. Sitting on the couch, he opened the wrapping carefully, planning to rewrap the picture with it after he looked at it.

Leaning it carefully against the couch, Sam took several steps back and gazed upon the work of art. He was immediately struck by its beauty. Yvette captured the New Mexican sun just behind the San Andres Mountains as well as the astounding hues that burst from the mountain in the wane of the orb. The painting exuded an explosion of color and was most definitely an amazing piece of work.

"Wow," Sam commented as he lowered himself to the floor to get a better look at the painting. "She's incredible." Instantly, he remembered the photos that Al had shown him, the body art that he and Yvette had taken of each other. Most of the pictures had been of Yvette but, if Sam really thought about it, the ones he saw were tastefully done. He realized that, if the connectivity issues hadn't been prominent and he hadn't been so sure that Al was only interested in sex - something he _knew_ wasn't completely true - he might have realized that they reflected Al's own talent with paint.

Not to mention his great taste in art. Al was right. Yvette's painting was almost like looking right into the entrance of Quantum Leap. He suddenly wished that he could see Al's work. Learning that his best friend was also an artist only made him appreciate that there was so much more to Al Calavicci than computer electronics and stories of conquests. But even those he was desperately starting to miss. Just one story about some woman Al met in Las Vegas or Las Cruces... someplace starting with Las.

As he stood up, thinking about Al, his affinity for women, and the photographs he had taken of Yvette, he realized yet another talent that Al never revealed to him. He was one hell of a photographer. He smiled slightly at the thought. Photographer, artistic painter, ex-astronaut, Doctor of Astrophysics... the man had so many talents and yet he never made himself out to be anything of consequence. He always let Sam take all the bows whenever there was a breakthrough at the project, even if Al was the one who watered the seed that Sam planted. It was the two of them together that brought about those breakthroughs. He owed so much to Al, his dearest friend. He didn't want to think what life would be like without him. Going over to the painting, he carefully lifted it again, gazing at it one more time. "I'll keep this safe for you, buddy," he murmured before carefully recovering the painting.

Sam was a bit down as he called the taxi. He had all of the luggage in the foyer and, while he waited, he went over to the piano to play. He found himself playing the music he knew that Al enjoyed, including a work by Grieg. He was about two-thirds into it when he heard the doorbell.

He got up and carefully closed the cover over the keyboard. When he opened the door, he found the taxi driver. "I honked but no one came out," the man explained.

"Oh, that's because I was playing the piano and didn't hear you." The man started taking the luggage to the car. Sam went over to the liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle Maker's Mark. I hope Mike wouldn't mind too much.

Once all the items were in the car, Sam locked the door to the house. He planned to come by the following night and put the rest of the house in order. He didn't know when the next tenants would arrive but Al had indicated a fairly small window. He got in the taxi and gave the man the address of the motel across from the hospital.

"Oh, I know that place. Lots of people who have family at the hospital stay there. You have someone sick in your family?" The taxi driver, like many in the profession was a talker.

"Well, not exactly family but as close as you can get. My best friend was in a car accident last night. We were driving back from the Plaza."

The taxi driver responded, "You mean that accident that the car was broadsided?"

"You heard about that?" That was a bit surprising.

"Well, you ride the narrow streets in Santa Fe for a living, that kind of stuff sort of gets around. Is your buddy going to be okay?"

Sam shrugged slightly. "I don't know. I mean, it's still too early to tell."

The driver touched the Rosary that hung from the rear view mirror. "I'll say a prayer for him." Sam thanked him. A couple of minutes later, they were at their destination. The man helped him get the luggage out of the car. Sam paid him and added a generous tip.

Sam had picked up the key earlier that day so he loaded the luggage cart and took the luggage to his room. He'd put most everything away when he noticed the flashing light on the phone. That meant a message had been left. He quickly went to the phone and dialed in the right code. The message was a little over two hours old. The nursing assistant on duty had called to inform him that he needed to come to the hospital immediately.

Sam instantly stopped putting things away. He rushed out of the room and across the street. As it was after 10 p.m. he had to enter through the emergency room entrance. He explained the reason for his visit to the nurse on duty. She checked with the fifth floor and waved him through. Sam felt like it would have taken less time to run up the stairs than taking the elevator as it stopped on each floor. Finally reaching his destination he bounded out, rushing to the nurses station.

"How's Al?" he queried fearfully.

The nurse looked up at him for a moment and then realized the situation. Dr. Beckett only now had received the message that had been left for him at the motel. "Have a seat, Dr. Beckett. I'll inform Dr. Shetfield that you are here."

Sam was frantic. "No. How's Al? The message said I needed to come right away. I know that's serious." Sam's eyes betrayed trepidation that the news wasn't going to be good.

The nurse sighed. It never was easy with the friends and family of patients. Standing, she walked around to meet him face to face. "Admiral Calavicci destabilized and went into cardiac arrest. He's fine, now." Before Sam could send a barrage of questions at her, she turned and paged Dr. Shetfield, ignoring Sam's demands. "The doctor will give you details when he arrives."

Frustrated, but having worked in a hospital before, Sam knew it was not in anyone's best interest to get on the wrong side of the nurses. They were the front line in a hospital and doctors that understood that fact were well served. He noticed her nametag. Maria Cervantes. "Um, Ms. Cervantes? Can I see Al before Dr. Shetfield arrives?"

Nurse Cervantes looked at him plainly and shook her head. "No one sees the Admiral unless Dr. Shetfield approves. Those are the current orders. The Admiral is very weak."

Sam closed his eyes tightly, the strain on his emotions evident. He took a deep breath. "All right. I'll be in the lounge down the hall." He knew that he needed to follow the hospital protocols or they wouldn't let him stay with Al as long as they had today. Professional courtesy only went so far. He figured by putting some distance between Al's room and himself, he wouldn't just rush in anyways, which was what his mind was screaming for him to do.

Sam had arrived in the small room and had immediately started pacing a three by three square. Several minutes later, Dr. Alan Shetfield walked into the room, a chart in his hand. "Dr. Beckett..." the man had started, causing Sam to stop mid-stride. He turned to Al's doctor to demand answers. The resident raised his free hand, and stated, "The Admiral has stabilized and the stitches have been reset."

Sam gave a small nod. Calming himself, he asked "How...?"

"As I told you previously, Admiral Calavicci has major scar tissue."

"Yes. I know that."

"And you know that scar tissue does not close as well as normal healthy skin. One of the incisions broke open and there was a significant loss of blood which caused the heart to go into cardiac arrest. It required additional surgery to close the wound and to provide an emergency transfusion." He looked at Sam, his face blanched. "Certainly you knew this was a potential issue?"

"Yes. I guess I didn't really want to believe it would actually happen to Al though. It's hard to be objective when it's your best friend facing such a potential situation." He paused, he shoulders drooping. "It's even harder when it actually happens."

Shetfield looked at him with sympathy. "I understand," he told him softly. "Again, we were able to stop the hemorrhaging and repair the incision as well as stabilize his heart. It's beating regularly, though a little weakly. He should strengthen as the night passes."

"Thank you, Dr. Shetfield. I truly appreciate your taking the time with me." He smiled. "Is there any way you'd allow me to see Al?"

Shetfield seemed to think about the request for a moment before nodding. "I don't have to tell you to be delicate with him."

"Of course. I'll just do as I did earlier. Sit beside him and hold his arm." He looked down. "I don't even know if Al realizes I'm there, but I hope so. I know there is nothing else I can do now."

"From what I've seen of him," Shetfield told him, "I have no doubt that he knows you're there beside him. He's a very determined patient, defying the odds just out of spite."

Sam smiled. "You've cracked his secret. That's Al for you!" Sam wanted to assure that his friend would keep fighting. If his strength could help him do so, he'd be there forever.

"However, even though you are a doctor, I can't give you anymore then a half hour. But you can come back for all visiting hours tomorrow. Just as you did today."

"That will be fine. I just need to see him tonight. Be with him awhile. And, then I'll just be across the street."

Sam again, just like the night before, went in to his buddy's room. "Hi, Al. I know you just need to rest. But they said I could sit with you a little while. I'll be right here beside you and when I leave, I promise I'll be back again as soon as they let me in. You need to allow yourself to heal, Al, and I'll be here as long as that takes." With that he sat again in the chair and lightly laid his hand on his best pal's arm and again turned to prayer during the short time he'd been given to stay with his friend.

_Wednesday, September 1, 1993_

_11:00 p.m._

Sam returned to the motel after his half hour with Al was finished. He wished he could stay with his friend for a longer time but understood the need for rules in a hospital. Hell, he'd probably have handled things the same way. It still didn't make it easy for him to leave.

Sam lay down on his bed and turned on the television. Flipping through the channels he continued to feel more and more frustration. He realized it wasn't that the television didn't have anything to watch; it was that he still was concerned about the lack of connectivity between he and Al. For the past week, he thought he was in some kind of warped space that he just wanted to get out of. Now, with his best buddy lying in the hospital room across the street, still at considerable risk - the cardiac arrest proved that - Sam would do anything to try and find that connection again.

He'd given it a little thought while at the house and had brought the bottle of bourbon with him to see if it could trigger some mental response between the two men. Sam didn't take this step lightly. He knew that both times the two of them had drunk on the same night, there seemed to be a merging of their minds in dreams. And, even if one had been drinking, like the times Sam had had a beer when Al had not, there was a stronger connection. Sam thought of the most recent event, with the Tsunamis. That situation had been the most terrifying in his life and he knew that Al would not wish of repeat of that situation. Still, Sam felt he had to try something.

He got up and went to the dresser, where the ice bucket rested, surrounded by several plastic cups. He thought to himself that good bourbon should really be drunk out of a beautiful crystal glass that allowed the clear amber liquid to sparkle, but tonight, his purpose was to simply allow the physical effect of the alcohol to play its role on his neurons and, hopefully, Al's. He had to know if Al would be all right.

He retrieved the bottle he'd pilfered from the house and poured two fingers into the slightly opaque plastic cup. Going back to the bed, he lay back again and took a sip. The feel of the liquor burned his lips and he felt the heat as it crossed his tongue and slid down his throat. The slightly numbing effect in his mouth tingled a bit. He closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift. Nothing.

Sam continued this exercise for a time. A slight sip, a pause, searching with his thoughts and hoping to find that connection that he'd believed would tell him that Al was there. He still didn't particularly enjoy that relational sensitivity, especially the arguments that seemed to spring from it, but still, he'd known that Al was there.

His head was beginning to become a bit dizzy. Sam thought back to the last time he'd drank whiskey like this and realized it was after Donna had left him at the altar. He'd wanted to lose himself then, not think of the possible scenarios of what he'd done to cause her to leave him like that. He thought it was ironic that now he was using the same technique to find someone as valuable to him. With another sip, he realized that he'd drained the glass. The link between he an Al was still missing.

He got up to pour himself another drink. This time, walking across the room took a little more time and he had to stop to allow the room to stop rotating. He grabbed the bottle and carried back to the bedside table. Pouring another two fingers, he repeated his experiment but found that he obtained similar results. After finishing stage two, though, he was glad he'd brought the bottle back with him. He figured if he tried to stand at this point, there was a distinct possibility of hitting the floor.

The third administration of the liquid proved to be the last. Sam had barely been able to hold the glass and with a final flourish, he'd finished what was still present after less than three sips. He still hadn't found Al's presence. It depressed him. He threw the glass across the room in a futile attempt to dispel his anger that this experiment hadn't worked the way he'd hoped. Seconds after that, he didn't remember anything as he fell into an alcohol induced slumber.


	11. Chapter 11

**THE OTHER SIDE OF LIFE**

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

_Thursday, September 2, 1993_

_8:30 a.m._

Sam awoke the next morning, his head feeling as if it would split and his mouth feeling as if it had been stuffed with cotton. He got up and felt the need to lower himself back to the bed slowly. He allowed his head and stomach to settle for a moment and then attempted the maneuver again, albeit a little slower this time.

Making his way to the bathroom, he unwrapped yet another of the supplied plastic cups and filled the glass from the facet. He drank the contents greedily and then immediately repeated himself. He wasn't satisfied until he had drunk three full glasses. The only problem after that was that he felt slightly inebriated again. Realizing that was a result of the dehydration the alcohol had caused, he filled yet another glass and drank it.

_I really need something to eat,_ he thought. There was a café next to the motel and figured that he could get some breakfast there. He figured he had to eat something or he most likely wouldn't be as welcomed at the ICU today and there was no way he'd jeopardize his ability to stay close to Al. He checked the clock and realized that he would be missing the first 90 minutes of the posted visiting hours as it was. It wasn't to be helped.

He was still in his clothes from the day before. Having slept in them, they were wrinkled. Well, he could grab breakfast in them and then come back to the motel room, shave and clean up before heading to the hospital. That would save time.

He folded himself into the booth the hostess showed him too and asked for some strong coffee as he took the plastic covered menu page. When the requested beverage was placed in front of him, he quickly ordered the two egg breakfast - sunny side up with bacon and biscuits - and then turned his attention to the mug.

"Dr. Beckett?"

Hearing his name he looked up and saw Maria Cervantes from the night before. "Hello, Ms. Cervantes. Is everything all right with Al?"

"Well, the shift change just ended. I decided to get a little something to eat before I go home. When I left there had been no change from the night before other than he is stronger. He still hasn't awoken."

Sam's shoulders sagged. "Thanks for the update."

"Sir, are you all right?" She looked concerned noting his disarray and the pallor that lay on him like a mantle.

"Um. Yeah. After I left the hospital, I had a rough night."

Maria gave him a sad little smile. "You look like it. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Um. No. Probably not. I'm just really concerned about Al. He's my best friend and I..." He trailed off, not sure what more to say.

She reached over and touched his hand. "He's going to be okay. I can tell that he's a fighter. He gets stronger every minute."

"Al has always been a fighter. I didn't know how much until recently," Sam replied, thinking back to the nightmare just two nights before.

She smiled, thinking that he was just being reminiscent. "Then you have nothing to worry about. He'll wake up soon. I'm sure of it. You've got to give him a little time."

"I know. It's just really hard." He realized he was keeping her from her meal. "I don't want to hold you up. Although, you're welcome to join me if you wish."

"I'd like that, since you offered," Maria told him with a smile. She picked up the menu and looked at it for a moment. "Well, I'm ready. Are you?"

"I've already ordered." He took a sip of his coffee. "I apologize for being so abrupt last night. I realize it must be difficult having to work in the ICU and having to speak with family and friends about situations."

"Don't worry about it," she told him. "I've honestly had much worse tornadoes run through the ICU." The waitress came over when Maria gestured to her. With her breakfast ordered, she turned to Sam. "How did you happen to become partners with the Admiral? I couldn't help but notice there is a significant age difference."

"We met on a project we were on together. We got to be friends and when the project was cancelled, we became partners in a new venture." Sam smiled as he thought back to that night at the vending machine. _Yeah, Al was a fighter from the first time I met him._

"So I'm guessing that you've known each other for a long time," Maria commented as the waitress gave her a cup of hot tea. She unwrapped the tea bag and then put it in the cup before pouring hot water in.

"Yeah. About eleven years now. I don't think anyone could ask for a better friend. We make a good team." Sam's eyes went down to his mug. "I just wish he'd wake up soon."

"He will," she told him with a smile. "Like I said, he is getting stronger. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't wake up later today."

The food was delivered and the two began eating. Sam smiled. "I hope so." He paused. "And thank you for coming by. I've missed having someone to eat with. It's been a little lonely for the past couple of days."

She nodded slightly at his words. "It's my pleasure." After a few bites, she asked, "So, I understand you're visiting Santa Fe. What brings you to our fair city?"

"Um." He figured that he really didn't need to go into the whole story. "Just some time off for both of us. Al wanted to shop and we both planned to take in some museums."

"Did you get to? I mean, before the accident."

"Yes. We went shopping a couple of days ago and had gone to two museums." They continued to talk about the area and eventually the meal was finished. Sam insisted on picking up the check for both of them. "Thank you for the pleasant meal. I really enjoyed talking with you."

Maria smiled. "It has been nice. Thank you for the meal. And Dr. Beckett? Don't worry. Things have a way of working out for the best." Then she took her leave. Sam paid and went back to the motel, getting cleaned up before heading over to the hospital.

He said good morning to the new shift's staff and headed into Al's room, seating himself in the chair again. He'd finished the books he'd brought with him the day before and had brought a couple of more today. Even with the breakfast and the aspirin he'd taken, he found himself feeling queasy and a headache pounded within his skull. Today would not be pleasant.

Sam thought back to the previous night. He realized in hindsight that it hadn't solved anything. He still couldn't feel the connection with Al and he felt miserable to boot. His conversation with Nurse Cervantes had helped ease his mind a bit. He knew she was right. It was just a waiting game.

He felt a shake on his shoulder. "Dr. Beckett? We need you to leave the room for a bit."

He looked up and scrubbed at his eyes, realizing that he must have fallen asleep. "Huh? Oh, yeah. I must have dozed of." He put the book that he'd been reading back on the table beside Al's bed.

"You looked like you needed it. I'm sorry to have disturbed you, but we need to have the room to maneuver in. You might want to take the time to visit the cafeteria again."

"Yeah. That's probably a good idea." Sam headed back down to obtain some lunch. He was still not feeling quite up to par and the breakfast had been substantial. He chose a bowl of soup and some crackers. A cup of tea and a piece of coconut cream pie rounded out his meal. Again, the meal was spent in a quiet solitude. He realized again how much he missed Al's banter and how much he had appreciated Maria Cervantes' company earlier.

He finished quickly and recognized that he still had a little time before he would be allowed back into Al's room for the afternoon 'shift.' He looked on the hospital directory and saw there was a chapel was on the third floor. He headed there.

Walking into the small all faiths room, he found a seat and simply prayed. He knew that he would eventually need to go back to the project, but if that was without Al, he knew it would be difficult for him. Al had been more than a partner; he was his friend. He again thought back to Tuesday night.

Had he been the cause of the accident? Not primarily; he understood that the drunk driver's actions had been the real reason for the crash. No, he was talking about the timing. If he hadn't spent so much time trying to get the mirrors just right, then they would have been through the area before the drunk driver went through that intersection. Al wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him. He hung his head and allowed the tears to silently fall from his eyes.

When he looked up again, another man had walked into the room. He was stocky, of medium height, and had a friendly look on his face. It was his eyes, though, that drew Sam's own. The man's chocolate brown eyes held compassion in them that called out to the physicist.

The man spoke. "Am I disturbing you?"

Sam indicated that he was not disturbed by the others choice to enter the chapel. "No. I'm just here because my friend's up on the fifth floor and hasn't woken up yet."

The man slowly sat down and looked around the small chapel. "It's a good place to wait."

Sam nodded. "I haven't been to a chapel for awhile. It feels peaceful here." He wondered if he deserved any peace. After all, it was due to his actions that Al was here. If he'd just let him drive, if he'd not been so anal about checking the mirrors...

The man smiled gently. "Well, that's what chapels are for, when you think about it."

"Yes. I suppose that is true."

"But apparently, you don't believe that," the man observed, looking at Sam with a shake of his head.

Sam sighed. "I don't know. It's just...well...I've been praying for the last few days. Part of me knows that there is someone that hears those prayers. But another part of me isn't completely sure."

"Why do you think that is?"

"I don't know. It seemed so simple when I was a child. Now..." Sam shoulders sagged and he looked down to his shoes. "...now, there seem to be too many variables."

"Now, things are a little more complicated," the man translated. "Let me tell you something, though. Faith isn't complicated. People like to think so but... it really isn't. So many don't even know what they believe. But I think you do. And that's what frightens you."

"But what if my faith isn't strong enough? What if my prayers aren't heard? It's important. My friend is important. I don't want him to have to face more pain because of me. I've already caused him too much."

"Your faith is strong enough," the man told him. "A small grain of faith helped Albert come back alive from Vietnam. Do you honestly think your prayers are unheard if He hears the prayers of someone who rejects Him? Albert will be fine. He needs you as much as you need him."

"You know Al?" Sam asked eyes wide and amazed at this turn of events.

"Better than he knows himself," the man told him. "I know that he doesn't want you feeling guilty over something that was an accident. Events in life happen for a reason. That reason might not be known to mere mortals but..." He pointed to the ceiling. "... He knows."

"That's what my mother would say," Sam answered, nodding.

"Mothers often know best, especially ones who raise their children in the way your mother raised you."

Sam's looked confused. "How do you know how my mother raised us? I've never met you before."

"I can tell how she raised you," the man told him. "For one, you obviously are blaming yourself for the accident. You have a strong sense of justice and, when things go wrong and you can't just fix it, you feel guilty about it. You're a good man. And good men come from good parents."

Sam smiled. "Thank you. My parents were good people. My mother still is. I guess you're right." Sam looked down at this watch. He realized it had been nearly an hour since he'd left Al. He needed to get back to his friend. "Sir, thank you. I think our talk has helped lift my spirit. I appreciate it." He realized he hadn't told the man his name. "By the way. I'm Sam. Sam Beckett." He held out his hand in greeting.

The man reached out and shook his hand. "Albert," he introduced himself. "Pleased to meet you, Sam Beckett. I'm certain that we will meet again."

Sam smiled. "Pleased to make your acquaintance as well, Albert. Huh. Albert. Like my friend. What are the chances of that happening?"

"It's a common enough name," Albert replied with a smile. "Never forget, Sam. If you feel alone, you can always count on Him to be there to listen. He always listens."

Sam smiled. "I'll try to remember that." He paused. "Well, I better get back to my friend. And thanks again." He headed towards the door.

"God bless, Sam," Albert told him as he watched Sam walk away.

Sam headed to the elevator to go to the fifth floor. He suddenly realized, the man, the other Albert, had helped him but he'd done nothing to address the reason the other man had come into the chapel. He may be hurting as well. Sam turned back and walked into the chapel, but no one was there. Sam figured he must have left in those few moments at the elevator. _Darn_, he thought_. Well, he said we'd meet again. I'm sure I'll see him around the hospital. I can ask then._

With that he headed up to Al's room, a little lighter in spirit.

_Thursday, September 2, 1993_

_7:30 p.m._

Sam had stayed in Al's room until visiting hours ended. He then had gone to the house to finish putting the place in order. He had no idea when the new tenants would arrive. When he'd reached the place that had been Al's and his home base for the two short days they had been together in Santa Fe, he put the sheets back on the bed and hung the towels where they had been the day they arrived.

He also cleaned up the baths and the kitchen, wiping all the surfaces down. He ran the sweeper throughout. He realized suddenly that they hadn't been able to utilize the hot tub and he smiled ruefully at the realization that he really hadn't needed to purchase that third set of trunks.

Giving the place a final look around, he thought back to the final argument between Al and himself. "I wish you could see, Al. I do know how to clean up. I just don't do it all the time." The thought gave him pause and he decided to take advantage of the piano again, to allow his emotions to again play out on the keys.

He was lost in the piece, one of Mendelson's. As he finished the last note, he suddenly heard applause. "Bravo!"

"What?!" Who was in the house?

"That was absolutely magnificent!" the man clarified as he walked closer to the piano. "Wasn't it, darling?" he asked, turning towards the woman who was just behind him.

"Just wonderful! What a marvelous surprise!"

"Um. Thank you. And you are?" Sam was confused.

"OH!" the man exclaimed, reaching out his hand. "Randy Larson." He gestured to the woman behind him. "My wife Judy."

Judy waved to Sam. "Hi."

"We didn't expect a welcoming committee," Randy admitted with a smile.

"Well, I'm not exactly that. Mike..."

"Oh, I completely understand!" Randy interrupted. "Used the wrong words." He dug into his pocket. "It's a wonderful thing to settle in with. Thank you so much!" He pulled out his wallet and started taking out cash.

"No!" At the look on Randy Larson's face, he explained. "Um. My friend and I were the previous tenants. I've been a little distracted the last couple of days and didn't know when the next tenants were coming. I guess that would be now."

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Judy said as she hurried to be by her husband

"Well, this is a little... awkward... isn't it?" Randy said in a murmur. "Still... you do play beautifully."

"Oh, I agree," Judy nodded.

"I'll just get out of your hair," Sam told them. "If I'd known you were coming this evening, I would have been out already. I'd just figured I could play that last piece before I left. And thank you. I do love to play."

"I'm sorry that we interrupted it," Judy told him. "If you want to continue, you're most welcome to."

"Um. No. You folks are probably tired. I don't want to bother you any more." Sam stopped. "But... I do need to call for a taxi though. It might take a few minutes to get here."

"Oh, you're quite welcome to stay and wait," Judy reiterated. "We just need to finish unloading the car. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. I'll tell you what. Let me call for the taxi. Until they get here, I'll play. Would that be okay?" Sam figured that might lessen the awkwardness of the situation a bit.

"Perfectly acceptable," Randy assured. "We'll let you know when it arrives."

"Do you have any requests?" Sam asked. "I play mostly classical and jazz."

"Play whatever you wish..." Randy started before he looked at him. "By the way, I didn't get your name."

Sam put out his hand. "Sam Beckett."

Randy shook his hand. "Like the playwright," he said with a smile. "Pleased to meet you."

"I get that a lot. Yes. Like the playwright." Sam laughed. "Please to meet you as well. I'll get to that phone call." Randy nodded and he and his wife went out to get their possessions. Sam called the taxi and then headed back to the piano. He figured he couldn't go wrong with Bach.

He was able to play a couple of the Master's compositions before the taxi arrived. He placed the cover back over the keyboard and ran his hand along the piano top again. He thanked the Larson's once more. It had certainly been a strange night.

_Friday, September 3, 1993_

_2:30 a.m._

The same taxi driver that had driven Sam the night before had taken him back to the motel. The man had asked about his friend again. Sam told him that he still wasn't awake but he'd been told it was a matter of time and he just had to wait. The man told him he'd continue to pray for him. Sam thanked him.

He'd gone to the room and got ready for bed. He'd fallen asleep rather quickly, but was awakened by the phone ringing. "Hello?" he answered groggily. He glanced over at the clock and noted it was 2:30 a.m.

"Dr. Beckett?" the female voice said on the other end. "Sorry that it's so early but there's been a development with Admiral Calavicci." Sam immediately recognized the voice of Maria Cervantes.

Sam was instantly awake. "Is he okay? It's not another cardiac arrest is it?" He'd jumped out of bed and quickly pulled the pants he'd discarded over the chair the night before on, pulling the phone with him.

Maria held back a slight chuckle. "He's fine, Dr. Beckett. He's awake, in fact."

"Awake!" Sam sat down suddenly in the chair, relief flooding over him. He voiced a silent thank you heavenward just before saying, "I'll be right over."

"I'm sure that he and the rest of the staff will be glad to see you. The Admiral's not exactly the most cooperative patient."

He dug out his pullover cotton sweater and pulled it over his head, barely hearing the last that the nurse had said. "What? Did I hear you say he's being difficult?"

Maria chuckled slightly. "Yes, but only a little. I get the impression that he isn't fond of hospitals."

Sam chuckled. "No. He never has been since I've know him. As I say, I'll be over in a minute." They signed off and he pulled out his socks and athletic shoes, putting them on quickly. He grabbed his key and headed out the door, sprinting over to the hospital. Again, he had to go through the emergency room, but was up on Al's floor within five minutes of the call, as this time he took the stairs.

He was slightly winded after the jog over and the five flights of stairs. He figured he'd better check with the desk first. There was nobody there. He could hear a loud voice, one he recognized as his friend's, coming from the direction of Al's room, the curtain having been pulled closed. Sam went quickly over and stepped inside the curtain.

"I don't give a damn what you or anyone else says!" Al yelled loudly, several nurses trying desperately to hold him down. "Let go of me!" He turned his head when he saw Dr. Shetfield filling a syringe out of the corner of his eye. "No!" He struggled again to try to get out of bed.

Sam had stood just inside the curtain and saw Al's eyes watching Dr. Shetfield. "Hey, before you do that, give me a minute. I'll see if I can calm him down."

"Dr. Beckett," Shetfield started, "I have a severely distraught patient who is going to hurt himself. Professional courtesy can only go so far." He started towards Al again, who struggled harder to get away.

"Just give me a moment to try. I really think I can help him calm down without the drugs."

The doctor nodded. A terse, "Two minutes. We have other critically ill people on this ward."

Al breathed heavily, still struggling against the nurses. "Damn it! Let me go!"

Sam went over to the nurse and put his hands over hers. "Let him go." She looked at him as if he was insane but he repeated himself. "Let him go, I'll take him." She finally acquiesced, letting go of the still struggling Admiral.

Sam then turned to Al, who continued to squirm. Looking him directly in the eyes. "Al? You have to calm down, buddy, or they're going to shoot you up with some strong drugs and we won't be able to visit."

"Sam?" Al breathed, still shaking from a mixture of fear and anger. "You've got to get me out of here." He grimaced, pulling his arms away from the Sam's to cradle his head. "It hurts."

"I know, Al. We were in an accident. You got the lion's share of the injuries. You really do need to listen to Dr. Shetfield. It will be the fastest way to recover enough to leave." He'd felt Al relax a bit as he recognized him and saw that as a good sign.

Al shook his head slightly as he leaned back on the bed. "No needles. You know I can't stand needles."

"No needles. But you have to cooperate. Otherwise, I won't be able to stop them. I'm not your doctor."

Dr. Shetfield had been standing back, holding the hypodermic filled with the drug he felt certain he'd have to use. As he watched Sam with Al, he was taken by the strong bond between the two men. Theirs was definitely as strong friendship.

Al nodded slowly, forcing himself to relax. "Okay," he reassured. He grimaced again. "Gawd, my head hurts."

Sam pulled his arms away, knowing that his friend wouldn't struggle anymore. Instead he took a more neutral position. "I don't doubt it. You hit it pretty hard." Sam remembered the concern that Al might have lost vision in his right eye. He asked Al to close his left eye and held two fingers up. "How many fingers, Al?"

Al frowned slightly at Sam instructions but obeyed. "It's hazy," he admitted. "Two," he finally said. "Hard to see them though. Feels like I'm trying to see through rain clouds on a dark night while flying."

Sam closed his eyes for a moment. The head injury was still affecting Al quite negatively. Still, he had his vision, so that was a positive. He reopened his eyes and gave Al a smile. "Then I'm not letting you fly anytime soon." He wanted to talk with Dr. Shetfield for a moment. "Hey, the nurse here needs to do her job. You wouldn't want to be responsible for her not getting your vitals. Can you let her take your temperature and such?"

"Temperature?" Al questioned, turning to look at the nurse who was preparing to do just as Sam suggested. Even with his slight impaired vision, he could see that the woman had a figure that could melt the hardest mineral. "Oh, she can take my temperature anytime she wants."

Sam smiled, seeing the slightly lecherous look on Al's face. Yeah, his buddy was definitely on the mend. Time would determine how long it would take though. "Let me get out of her way then. I'll be right back."

He left Al smiling at the nurse. Walking out from the room, he gestured for Dr. Shetfield to follow him away from Al's hearing range, which he knew to be quite good. "I apologize for taking the lead in there regarding Al's vision, but I had to know."

"I understand," Shetfield told him. "I'm glad you were able to calm him. Apparently, he is more than just a little afraid of needles."

"Yeah. You could say that. He really hasn't talked to me about it much, but I understand much of that stems from his time in Bethesda after his repatriation. I guess he developed a strong dislike of them then."

Sam thought back to the nightmare he and Al had shared and realized that those nightmares had probably been even worse when Al returned home. He'd had almost twenty years to reach the point he'd seen. He again realized the hell Al had lived through.

Shetfield took a breath and looked towards Al's room before refocusing on Sam. "If I may say so, Dr. Beckett, what I saw in there was more like terror than a strong dislike." He took a breath. "He will need to be given medicines on a regular basis. Some of those we can give in pill form but not all of them. Some must be with a syringe."

"I know. And I'll do everything I can to help ease his fears. It's not that he won't allow them; he just needs to consciously know why. I think tonight's reaction was due to waking up like he did and being in a hospital and all. Probably brought back memories he'd rather forget. That's part of the reason I wanted to be here when he awoke.

Shetfield nodded slightly at the explanation. "I'll make a note on his chart that he needs extra attention. I don't want a repeat of what just happened and I believe neither do you."

"No. I wouldn't. And I don't think it will." Sam paused. "Now that he's awake, are you planning on moving him into a regular room?"

"Yes," Dr. Shetfield answered. "We'll do that after the shift change. I think I may be able to open up visiting hours a little wider outside of the ICU if you'd like."

Sam grinned. "Yeah. I'd like that a lot. You mind if I spend a little more time with him now?"

Shetfield smiled slightly. "Be my guest. I doubt he's going to let us help him get some more rest, despite the hour."

"Oh. Since he's complaining of his head hurting, you could probably give him a sedative and analgesic. In pill form, he'd probably welcome that. I'll just stay with him until they take effect."

"Absolutely," Shetfield told him. He huffed a sad laugh. "Ironically, that was what started this whole incident. The nurse was going to give him a shot of morphine."

Sam looked serious. "Why didn't you just shoot it into his IV?"

"When he awoke, that was the first thing he pulled out. That's why we wanted to give him the morphine."

Sam realized that indeed, Al's IV had been removed. He hadn't thought of that until Dr. Shetfield mentioned it. "Um. Yeah. Well, Al is a very determined individual. He tends to act first and ask permission later."

"Yes. I noticed," Shetfield replied. "Hopefully your little talk with him will help us help him." He turned his head as he saw the nurse leaving Al's room. She gave him a brief nod before going on to her next assignment. "I believe the Admiral is available for some company."

"I'd better get back in there for now." He started walking towards his friend's room, but turned back to add, "You know, Al's not really all that difficult once you understand where he's coming from. I don't think you'll have too much trouble with him now." He then turned and continued his walk to Al's room. Stepping in he found Al laying back a slight grin on his face. "How are you feeling?"

"You know... nurses are the only reason to even be in a hospital," Al commented, the grin still on his face.

"Well, you certainly sound like you're on the mend!" He sat down in the chair next to Al's bed. "Your head still hurting?"

"More like on fire," Al corrected. "And my stomach too." He closed his eyes against the pain. "What the hell happened, Sam? All I remember is we were going back to the house and then... nothing."

"A drunk driver hit the car. Plowed into your side of the vehicle." He took a deep breath, "I was worried you wouldn't survive." He paused. "I suggested to Dr. Shetfield that you be given an analgesic for your head. You'll take the pills, right?"

"Right now, Sam, I'll take a skillet to my head if it would just stop this pain," Al told him. Realizing that he said something about a car accident, he looked at Sam with great concern. "Are you okay?"

"I got out of it with a bruised shoulder." He gave a short bitter laugh. "I should have given you the keys, Al. If I hadn't been driving, maybe..."

Al lowered his eyelids. "Now, don't start going into that. It was an accident. If I'd been driving, you'd be the one here and I couldn't handle that."

"You can handle anything, Al." He seemed about to say something more when the routine of the ICU intruded.

The nurse came in with a small white paper cup filled with two pills and a pitcher. She poured water from the pitcher and put in a straw, handing it to Al. "I'd like you to take these, Admiral." She smiled at him as she voiced the requested action.

"What are they?" Al questioned as he received the pills and the water.

Sam jumped in before the nurse could answer. "Something a little less painful than a skillet to the head. You promised you'd take them," he added softly.

Al widened his eyes at Sam's words. "I said nothing of the sort. I said I'd try to be as cooperative as necessary." Grabbing the cup of pills and the water, he downed them quickly. Seeing the look on Sam's face, he told him, "Hey, I'm in pain here! It's necessary!" He returned the cup to the nurse. "You know what? I'm starving. Any chance of getting something to eat?"

The nurse looked from her patient to Dr. Beckett and back, initially concerned that the Admiral was about to become combative again. However, after he took the pills, she allowed her alertness to calm. Hearing the request for sustenance, she answered. "I can get you some soup and Jell-O. I'll be right back." She headed out of the room.

"Soup and jello?" Al questioned, watching the nurse leave. "I was thinking more like a steak."

Sam laughed. His friend was quickly returning to the Al he knew and loved. "You've been unconscious for two days, Al. The hospital isn't going to give you steak for your first meal." He stopped for a moment. "You're lucky you weren't started on ice chips."

Al blinked at his words. "How long?" he questioned. "Two... days? So, what's wrong with me?"

"You suffered some rather severe injuries. The right side of the car was mangled. They had to use the jaws of life to extract you." He paused, thinking back to the fear he'd felt in during those long minutes as he'd applied pressure to Al's arm, feeling his best friend's blood seeping between his fingers as he slowed the flow.

Al swallowed tightly at the words, grateful that he couldn't remember much. "Did I... I almost die?"

"Yeah. It was close. It scared me that you could have died and I'd lose my best friend." Another pause punctuated his words. "I couldn't feel the connectivity. I was afraid that meant you were dying."

Al gently rubbed his eyes. "Well, I guess I'm too damned stubborn to die on you. Someone's got to keep an eye on you." He paused for a long moment. "By the way... thanks."

"Thanks? For what? Don't you get it? I almost got you killed!" Sam's eyes continued to hold a mixture of all his emotions: relief that Al's was getting better, anger and guilt toward himself that none of this would've happened if he'd made different choices.

"No, you didn't. What you did do was save my life," Al told him with a grateful smile.

"I wouldn't have had to if I'd spent more time understanding what would happen when Ziggy was turned on. I missed that, Al. Missed it entirely. Everything this past week and a half was my fault."

Al yawned. "Are we going to argue about this again? You aren't the only one who thought it was a great idea. Let it drop and take the compliment and the gratitude. Stop laying blame on yourself for every little thing." He looked at Sam. "Typically, when someone says thank you, the proper response is 'you're welcome.'"

Sam looked at his friend and realized he sounded ungrateful. "Okay, Al. You're right. You're welcome." His voice indicated that he would still hold onto his guilt for some time.

The nurse came in with the promised food. Al looked at it askance but still, it was better than nothing. He ate them, although with little pleasure. By the time he was finished, the sedative had begun to take effect.

Sam watched as Al struggled to stay awake. "Hey, buddy, you look like you could use some sleep. Don't fight it. It'll help you heal and you'll be out of here sooner that way."

"Sounds absolutely wonderful," Al murmured, his eyes finally closing. After a moment, he slowly opened his eyes again. "Sam? I'm serious. Thank you. I owe you one."

As Al drifted off to sleep, Sam thought sincerely, _You don't owe me anything, Al. I'm just thankful you're going to be all right. _ Noting that Al wouldn't awaken for at least several hours, he headed back to the motel to get some sleep of his own.


	12. Chapter 12

**THE OTHER SIDE OF LIFE**

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

_Wednesday, September 15, 1993_

_3:00 p.m._

The next 12 days went by in a blur. Sam had contacted the project after Al had awoken and everyone had sent their best to the Admiral, conveying their encouragement for him to "get well soon." Tina especially had asked Sam to deliver a kiss to him; something that Sam indicated would have to be in the form of a promissory note as he had no intention of kissing Al, even if she specified it to be on the cheek.

Al had been concerned to learn he'd lost his spleen. Sam had told him that while it was better to keep it, like tonsils there wasn't really any major downside to losing it. It would just mean that his body would be a bit more susceptible to attack by viruses and bacteria. Al indicated that he'd be a little more careful about whom he kissed and Sam had simply given him a glare.

Al's vision also cleared up. The head injury had been a concern from Dr. Shetfield's standpoint, but the neurologist eventually gave Al a clean bill of health. Sam noted that it was a good thing Al had such a thick skull. Al had said that he rather have one of those than be an "egg headed genius." Sam had just been happy that their easy banter had returned to a gentle teasing, rather then the angry words that had marred the week on the road.

Eventually, two weeks after the accident, Al was given the permission to leave the hospital. Sam had asked the motor pool to bring up another vehicle and it had been dropped off the night before. Doctor Shetfield had indicated that he would be by in the afternoon and figured that Al would probably be able to leave then. Sam had been at the hospital all day with Al. It was now three o'clock and the two of them were still waiting for the nurse to deliver the final paperwork before Al could be 'sprung.'"

"You know, I almost miss it," Al commented as he sat in the wheelchair, waiting to be allowed to finally walk on his own. While he understood the rules of a hospital, that didn't mean that he liked having to ride around as if he were an invalid. All he wanted was to walk out the doors and say goodbye to meals that you could use as wallpaper paste.

"Miss what, Al?" Sam asked. Dr. Shetfield had just left after providing Al with his instructions as to how he should handle himself for the immediate future. Sam had promised that he'd make sure Al was well taken care of and the doctor had laughed, indicating that from what he'd seen, that was an understatement. The nurse had stated the need to take care of one little item and then she'd be in to escort Al to the front door of the hospital.

"The connectivity," Al commented. "I almost miss it." He looked down at the wheelchair he was sitting in. "You know this is the stupidest idea I'd ever heard of. I am quite capable of walking, you know."

"I know, Al. But it's protocol. I don't know of any hospital that doesn't have this as one of the rules. Besides, it's the last bit of rest you're going to get for awhile. Do you know how far behind we are now?"

Al waved off the concern. "Hey, Sam, don't worry. I'll help."

"Yeah. But you can't overdo it, Al." He got up from the chair and went to the window, looking out. "As to the connectivity. There are things I miss and things I don't." He turned around. "I don't ever want to be in another situation where the things I did... that I said... hurt you like they did. On the other hand, I feel like I understand you better now. I guess that is a positive."

Al gave him a little smile. "I guess I know you better too." He thought seriously about the events since the beginning of this adventure, trying to figure out exactly what had happened between him and Sam. It had started off back at the project and became worse before the car accident. And now, the connectivity between them was gone. Oh, he could still feel minor little traces but nothing like it was before. "Got any theories as to why it suddenly vanished?" he asked, his own mind unable to find the reason.

"Well, I had a talk with Ziggy while you were still unconscious and another since then. He admitted he knew we had a connection at the start of this whole thing. He..."

"He what?!" Al raised his voice. "He knew what was happening and he didn't tell us?!" He started to get out of the wheelchair but was stopped by Sam's hand. "I'm going to rip out his CPU!"

"Al! Calm down. I'll explain." Al wasn't happy but he settled down to listen. The younger man continued. "His prediction was that we would only have four days of increased sensitivity. At the time he sent us off, he felt it would be better for the project staff not to hear our arguing. And he wasn't sure of himself at that point either." He paused. "Besides, he felt it would be best for us to come to terms with it on our own."

"Great. Send us to fend for ourselves without any kind of guidance. Brilliant," Al said sarcastically. "Sure we figured it out but he could have _told_ us instead of kicking us out as if we were bad little children who needed a spanking!"

"Yeah... but remember, Ziggy had only been turned on for two days at that time. He was still learning. As I say, he wasn't sure of himself. And he really didn't think anything more would happen. There would have only been the day in Socorro and the one in Las Cruces. And," he added as an afterthought, "he thought I needed a vacation."

"He kicked us out, Sam!" Al complained. "I don't care if he thought you needed to do a drunken limbo during Hula night at the Ritz! What kind of child kicks out his parents by threatening the welfare of the whole complex?!"

"That the problem, Al. Ziggy is still a child. One that can wield great power. I'm going to have to address that in his programming when we get back. But he was just trying to get the project back on course. If you recall, you were ready to leave and I was ready to let you go." He paused. "And speaking of that, Al, I'm really sorry for what I said. I know you'd never hurt me or the project. I have no excuse for saying what I said to you."

Al exhaled slowly. "Yeah, I'm... I'm sorry too for what I said about Tom." He extended his hand. "Forgiven?"

Sam pushed the hand away and hugged Al instead. "Forgiven. I knew you didn't mean what you said, Al. Well, maybe a little about the fact that I'm not always neat, but I knew you couldn't have meant what you said about Tom."

Al chuckled slightly. "No, you aren't the neatest person in the world but you aren't a slob. Now, what's this about a prediction Ziggy made about it only taking four days for the connectivity to disappear?" Al questioned. "Sounds to me like he's not as good at predicting things as he's supposed to be."

'Well, he said I shouldn't have allowed the men who mugged me to hit me on the head."

"Oh, you _allowed_ yourself to be mugged and hit on the head," Al commented sarcastically. "As if you were given the choice! I'm definitely pulling out his CPU now!"

"Ziggy just doesn't understand things like that yet, Al. Give him some time. I designed him to learn from experience. He's progressing. But remember, that happened on day three. Besides, we shut down Ziggy, we shut down the project."

Al smiled slightly. "Changed your mind, I see."

"Well, my biggest issue was I didn't want to have the connectivity end our friendship. We don't have the connectivity anymore, so that issue is now a moot point. To get back to your initial question of why the connectivity isn't there any longer, that has to do with that bruise above your right eye."

Al thought about Sam's words for a moment. "Okay... so you're saying when you got hit in the head, it got worse. And when I got hit in the head... it went away? Isn't that a little like those amnesia episodes on bad television shows?"

"Yeah, basically that's the gist of it." Looking at the expression on Al's face, Sam added, "I can't help it if it sounds cheesy. It's what happened."

Al looked at a corner of the room, digesting what Sam had just told him. "Great. I'm a part of a daytime soap opera. Not that I've ever seen one."

Before Sam could form his retort, the nurse came in apologizing for the long delay. He asked Al if he was ready to leave and he indicated he was. The three of them walked down to the front entrance. Sam left Al to get the car. Within minutes, Sam drove up to the door in a black Pontiac Bonneville. He put Al's things into the trunk and opened the door for him to get in. Once they were both buckled in, Sam pulled away from the hospital.

Sam had checked out of the motel before going to the hospital. They were now approaching the interstate which was the first long leg of their journey home. Sam figured they have at least four hours before they were at the project again. Noticing his friend was being especially quiet, Sam asked softly, "What's on your mind, Al."

"The nightmare," Al said after a long moment. "The one you had for me."

Sam nodded. "Okay. Let's talk about that."

"I didn't say I wanted to talk about it, Sam," Al told him with a slight frown.

"I know. But I really think we should, not that I really want to either. But otherwise it's always going to be there between us."

"Why should it be?" Al asked. "It happened. Better to leave it in the past where it belongs."

"But it isn't in the past anymore. Like it or not, I've experienced at least a small part of that hell you lived though. I know you're angry that I know something that personal to you, but that can't be helped. However, how we live with that shared knowledge, we can choose."

"Yes, it was only a small part," Al agreed. "And I prefer to keep it that way."

"I didn't say I want the whole story, Al. I'd never ask you for that. What I'm talking about is the piece I do know." Sam paused to allow Al to fill in the next part of their conversation. When he didn't, he asked, "Is that why you paint, Al?"

Al frowned slightly. "What do you mean? What does painting have to do with that nightmare?"

Sam hesitated. He was going to go with some major assumptions here, but he was the one who said they needed to talk. "Well, I'm assuming that those nightmares are fairly persistent. After all, for events to come through that painfully twenty years after they happened, I can't even imagine how you coped with those feelings when you came home. It would seem that an outlet would be necessary or you'd probably have gone insane from the memories. Painting might be such an outlet."

Al took a breath. He hated bearing his soul, even to Sam. People always judged. It didn't matter if they meant well or not. He didn't want Sam to become those kinds of people.

"I paint because I enjoy it. I always have." He looked out the window, not wanting to see Sam's eyes. "When you met me, drinking was my outlet. But you stopped that. So... I keep my hands busy other ways." Al got quiet for a bit but Sam didn't say anything. Finally, Al started again. "Sometimes... I have to paint the nightmares. That's why you've never seen my paintings. It's bad enough that you've seen that little bit of it."

Sam finally broke his silence. He knew that this was difficult for Al but he also knew he would be there for him. "I'm glad you found that outlet." He paused before continuing. "I looked at the Yvette's painting. You said you wanted me to, and I wasn't sure if..." He trailed off. Suddenly he pulled to the side of the road.

Al frowned, turning towards him. "What's wrong?"

Sam had put the car into park. He was shaking slightly. Finally he turned to Al. "All of this has made me realize how important you are, Al. You're my friend and partner. In the nightmare, I felt like I was going to die. Then I had to face the idea that you might die before I could tell you what seeing that picture told me."

Al looked at his friend for a long moment, not quite understanding why he was shaking. He blinked for a moment, trying to make the correlation between the nightmare, the accident, and the painting that Yvette had given him. "I think I'm missing something here. Yvette's painting told you something about me?"

Sam looked down. "Yeah. Looking at the picture reminded me of the project, just as you thought it might. You're always there with me, making the project happen. Oh, you stay to the background most of the time and insist I take the credit when we make a breakthrough. I mean, if it wasn't for you, we wouldn't be building the project. Our conversations have led me to discoveries that I don't think I would have made without your pointing me in a particular direction. And then when I learned you painted and were into photography, I realized that I don't know you as well as I thought I did." He paused. "I must sound demented."

"Maybe a little," Al agreed and then smiled slightly. "But I'm used to that." He paused and thought about Sam's words, still confused by the seeming lack of correlation. "Sam... tell me. How did you come up with this train of thought?"

Taking a deep breath, he answered. "Well. You know what you experienced in Vietnam. I didn't. All that I know is that while I was in the grasp of your nightmare, I thought I would die. It made me consider the concept of my own mortality." He looked up. "I've never experienced anything like that before."

"Okay..." Al said as if he was sure Sam were about to grow a second head. "So, you started thinking about that... And you were concerned about me so..." He frowned. "Sam, I'm still missing the connection here between the nightmare and the painting."

"Then the accident happened. I wasn't sure you would live. I stayed with you that first day and you didn't seem to get any better. When I went back to get our things at the house and move them to the motel, I found the picture and looked at it. Everything about you just flooded in. I think the nightmare sort of prepared me to see more of who you are. The picture just brought it all together. The project, the art, the science… just… everything."

Al didn't say a word for a long time, honestly a little overwhelmed by Sam's words. He ran his right thumb just under his left eyebrow, clearing his throat as he did so. "Well... umm..." He exhaled. "Ah, hell, Sam, how am I supposed to answer to that? I feel like you're putting me on a pedestal or something."

"No, Al. It's not that. I was just afraid you'd be gone and I couldn't tell you, like I hadn't told Tom or Dad." Sam's eyes started filling. "Did you know, Al? I never told my father I loved him before he died. At least, not since I was very little. And Tom? I thought he'd come back. I thought we'd have years together. Instead, the last memory I have of my brother is my waving to him as he boarded the plane on his first leg of his journey to Vietnam."

"Ah, Sam... your Dad knew how you felt about him. So did Tom." He looked into Sam's eyes gently. But Sam's words did make him consider the last words he'd said to his first wife. He'd sworn to her that he'd be back. He had fully intended to keep that promise. But he didn't keep it until it was too late.

"How do you know, Al? I wasn't even there when Dad died. I missed his funeral. I really just wish I had another chance. That I could tell my father that I love him. That I could have made those last days with Tom really mean something." Sam took another breath. "I know you really guard your privacy, Al. I know that and I respect it. But now, I'm not sure that you won't push me away 'cause of this whole blasted situation... 'cause I've seen too deep."

Al lowered his eyelids. "We all do things we regret. We all have missed opportunities." He took a breath. "We can't predict the future nor can we change the past." He turned to look at Sam. "What I do know is that you are a good man, Sam. Good men tend to come from good families that know each other. I have no doubts that they knew you loved them." He took another breath, considering his words. "And I can guarantee you aren't getting rid of me that easily, Dr. Beckett. Not by a long shot."

Sam looked at him for a moment. "That's what the other Albert said, the one in the chapel."

Al raised an eyebrow. "You met someone named Albert in a chapel?"

"Yeah. At the hospital. He said that you and I need each other. That good men come from good families. That events in life happen for a reason." See Al's expression, he protested. "I really did, Al. There was really an Albert who told me that... in the chapel... in the hospital."

"I believe you," Al told him. "It's just... It's one hell of a coincidence."

"Yeah. I guess it is." Sam was quiet for a moment. "Well, I guess we better get back to the project. We're almost to Albuquerque. We still have about three hours or so to go."

Al gave him a wicked grin. "You know, we could be there faster if you let me drive."

Sam smiled. "No, Al. I've seen the pain meds you've been taking. You're not driving."

"Hey, I don't react to drugs like you do. I can handle them just fine," Al insisted. Sam looked at him again, his eyes showing determination and Al realized this was one battle he wouldn't win. "Fine. You drive."

Al was obviously disappointed with his friend's firm stance on the driving issue but he let the matter slide. They'd already had enough stupid arguments; he certainly didn't want to get into another, even if there was no longer a connectivity problem.

Sam gave Al a grin and then at the next opening pulled back into traffic. The car's gentle drive lulled Al and Sam soon heard a soft snore next to him. "Yeah... you don't react to drugs, my ass." He gave a small chuckle. They had been driving through the Albuquerque metro area for a bit when Al suddenly opened his eyes. They were passing the sign for Alameda Street in the city.

"Hey! Alameda! I have a friend who lives in Alameda," Al commented, seeing the sign. "California, I mean. Nice guy. Was in the Reserves. I meant to tell you about something he said."

"Alameda. Wasn't that where Chekov was supposed to go to find the 'nuclear wessels' in 'The Voyage Home'?" Sam smiled. "I always thought that was the best movie in the Star Trek series."

"You know that scene with Chekov asking where Alameda was?" Al said with a smile on his face. "It wasn't scripted."

"It had to be, Al. They script all those things. That's why they're called actors."

"No, seriously! Nimoy wanted a natural reaction from the locals so he put those two... uh..." He snapped his fingers, trying to remember the names of the actors.

"Nichelle Nichols and Walter Koenig?"

"Yeah! Those two. Anyway, Nimoy had them asking people off the street where Alameda was and most ignored them except that woman that told them it was across the bay. And when they said cut, Nimoy hurried over and asked if he could keep her in the movie. Paid her for it too."

"Wow! I didn't know that. No wonder that seemed so spontaneous. It was. I just loved the whole premise of that movie. It was really funny but had a good message in it about the whales."

"You've got that right," Al commented. "They're endangered, thanks to all the whaling that has happened over the past century."

"Yeah. Whaling is really a problem. But it's not just that, Al. I mean, global warming is heating up the oceans. The temperature variations are too much for the sea life. That's as much a problem."

"Well, well, Dr. Beckett, I didn't realize you had read up on environmental issues. I'm impressed."

"What? You think I don't care about the Earth? Human sustainability?"

"I didn't say that, Sam. I'm just saying that you always seem more interested in other things."

"I'm a complicated kind of guy, Al."

A wicked grin crossed Al's face. "More like complicating."

"Funny, Al," Sam quipped back.

"Well, I bet you didn't know there was a link between tropical rainforest deforestation and Global Warming."

"Really? You're right, I hadn't heard that."

"Yeah. Apparently, the more we deforest the tropics, the less of a heat sink we have. The heat has to go somewhere, so it goes in the oceans. The ocean heating causes stronger hurricanes. And the deforestation is even worse since we're killing off so many species that we don't even know about."

"Huh. I guess when I think of the tropics, I just consider the beaches and stuff like in Mexico. I love that place. There are some really nice areas there."

"Yeah. One of my favorite vacation spots is Cabo San Lucas. Used to go there when I was based in San Diego. It wasn't as built up then as it is now."

"I know that it was on a vacation to Puerto Vallarta with Donna that I learned about drinking Corona with limes. I still like them that way."

"I know, Sam. You're always squeezing the limes into your bottles. I've never understood you drinking them that way. I prefer a glass."

"To each his own, said the old lady as she kissed the cow."

"What? What the hell is that?"

"It's something that Mom used to say. It means that everyone had preferences and as long as you're not hurting someone else, who should care."

"I guess that's true, but I still prefer a glass."

"Yeah. I got that Al. A wiped glass, no streaks, and three pieces of ice."

"I'm sorry about that Sam. I guess I over reacted."

"It's okay. Although I doubt if I'll make that mistake ever again. You also said a glass is one of the reasons you like the Owl."

"Yeah. I do like the Owl, Sam. But I like the Buckhorn sometimes too."

"I know, Al."

"Hey, what were we talking about?"

"Which topic? We've covered several."

"I don't know. It was awhile back. I was going to tell you something about something. Darn. I can't remember."

"Well, let's see… we were just talking about the restaurants in San Antonio, NM. We got there talking about glasses, which came from the fact that I like to drink my Corona's in the bottle, which came from the our talking about Mexico and our favorite beaches, which came from our talking about the loss of rainforests, which came from talking about Global warming, which came from our discussion about whaling and the danger to the whales, which came from talking about 'Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home', which came from you remembering your friend in the reserves in Alameda which was triggered by us seeing the sign. That's right; you were going to tell me about something your friend had said."

Al looked at Sam as he went back through the entire string of tangents. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Keep all those strings straight?"

"I don't know. I guess I've always been able to do that."

"Huh."

"Anyways, what did your friend say?"

"Umm..." Al started, trying to remember his train of thought. "I forgot."

"How could you forget? You really don't remember what you were going to say?" Sam asked, surprised. They were driving down the stretch of interstate between Las Lunas and Socorro. Sam smiled. They'd be back at the project within two hours tops.

"Hey, I don't have an eidetic memory like you, Sam," Al countered, turning his head towards him. "I do sometimes forget..." A look of wonder crossed his face. "Oh, my gawd!" Instantly, he unbuckled his seatbelt and twisted to reach into the back. "Where the hell is it?"

"What, Al?" Sam was concerned as Al started rummaging through the bags they had in the back seat. "What's going on?"

"Take a look to your left!" Al told him emphatically. "Ah-ha! Come here, baby!" He pulled out the manual camera he'd packed and quickly checked it for film. "Beautiful!" he exclaimed with delight before maneuvering himself further into the back, his legs still in the front passenger's seat.

Sam's jaw dropped as he turned his head to see what caught his friend's attention. "OH, MY GAWD! That has to be the most incredible sight I've ever seen." He pulled over to the side of the road. There was a rainbow of intense almost iridescent hues rising from the valley floor next to the mountains. All along the base the line where mountain met plain looked aflame with a deep orange-red glow.

Al was busy snapping pictures even as Sam started pulling over to the side of the road. Al, realizing what Sam was doing, quickly pulled back into the passenger's seat and as soon as the car stopped, opened the door, camera in hand. Sam, too, got out seeing nature in its mind-blowing grandeur. Al came around from the far side of the care, zooming the lens on the miraculous and marvelous sight. "This is amazing! I thought I'd seen everything until now!"

Sam was awestruck. "It's flipping breathtaking!" he breathed, lost in the extraordinary optical vision before them.

As they stood there transfixed, the rainbow seemed to change, become even more miraculous with each passing second. In front of their eyes, the rainbow, which at first had seemed to be a column of ethereal light, deepened in color and they watched as a second rainbow appeared beside it. They looked and could now clearly see the double bow that lit up the heavens like a neon sign.

"Al! No one is going to believe us when we tell them about this!" The physicist could spout all the scientific explanations of what he was seeing, the water in the air acting as a prism for the light from the now setting sun, but it didn't really explain what they were witnessing. After the past three weeks, this was like a balm on their souls.

Even Al had to stop taking pictures just to drown in the exquisiteness before him. "Gorgeous," he whispered, leaning slightly against the trunk of the car. "Sometimes, life gives you little gems. And this is one hell of a gem."

"Yeah. A gem. Gawd, I'm glad we're together to see this, Al."

Al's eyes were on the natural piece of art but his words were honest. "So am I, Sam," he told him softly. He was sorely tempted to sit right there, on the side of the road, and watch the art-in-progress reveal itself. But the practical side of him told him that that just wasn't realistic. For one, they were in the middle of a highway. For another, they had to get back on the road or they'd fall behind and wouldn't arrive home until long after nightfall. "We'd better go," he said quietly, raising the camera for a few last pictures.

Sam shook his head. "No. This is a once in a lifetime event, Al. We've been given a gift and I just want to share it with my best friend." Sam stopped for a moment and then voiced, "'I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth.'"

Al looked at Sam for a moment and swallowed. He'd never really had a good relationship with God - at least not since he was a young child - even though he probably knew verses of the Bible Sam would never believe he knew. "Genesis. Chapter nine, verse thirteen," he murmured. He swallowed again before putting his arms around his shoulders. "I want to stay too, Sam. Believe me; I'd rather stay here the rest of the night, watching this with you. But we have to get back on the road."

Sam nodded. "I know. I know. But, Al, we'll probably never experience something like this again. I just don't want to leave it." Yet as he voiced that truth, they both noted that the moment was passing from them. The floor of the valley no longer glowed and the rainbow, although still present, changed to become a more mundane vision of nature. "It's gone," Sam whispered softly.

Al gave him a small smile. "No, it isn't." Getting a look from Sam, his eyes softened as he pointed first to Sam's head and then his chest. "It's there and there."

"Yeah." He grinned and then stated, "You're right, though. We still have about an hour and a half to go. Come on." They both turned and headed back to the car as other vehicles passed by on there way to their own destinations.

Getting in the car, Al reached into the back seat again as Sam started to merge back onto the highway.

"What are you doing?" Sam questioned with a slight frown.

"Out of film. Need to change it," Al explained.

"I don't think we'll see the rainbow like that again."

"Probably not," Al agreed as he sat back in his seat and started to change the film. "Once in a lifetime. But we're never going to forget it either." He made sure the new roll was properly in place, the used roll in its canister, before looking at Sam. "I like to keep film in the camera. Just in case. Glad I did."

"I am too. That's the only tangible record we have. I hope the pictures turn out."

"Me too, Sammy." The road continued for a short distance, the sky growing dark and stormy as dusk began to set. "Oh!" Al exclaimed. "Now that's pretty!" He raised his camera and started taking pictures out the passenger window. "Take a look at those clouds, Sam."

Sam looked over to his right, trying to get a good look at the sky that Al was photographing. He wanted to keep his eyes on the road as well. Still, he could see the rose, mauve, blues, and yellows that painted the view. "That's beautiful too. Not quite as inspiring as the rainbow, but beautiful."

"Absolutely," Al agreed with Sam's assessment. "The Earth really wants to show off tonight, Sammy." Satisfied with the number of pictures he'd taken, he refocused his attention to the road before grimacing slightly at a pain in his lower back. He ignored it. Sam would just want to know what was wrong and he really didn't want to spoil the mood.

They drove along in silence for a while. Finally Sam spoke up. "Hey, Al? You hungry?"

"You know me. I'm always hungry," Al said with a grin. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well, we'll be in San Antonio soon. You want to go by the Owl?"

Al looked at Sam and figured that he was just trying to be nice. Al always favored the Owl and Sam knew it. Well, Al didn't want Sam to feel obligated in the least. "We can go to the Buckhorn. I know you like it better."

"Nah. That's okay. We'll go there next time. Lynnette hasn't seen you in three weeks. She'll be wondering what happened to you."

"Are you sure? Because the Buckhorn's fine with me," Al countered.

"But the Owl will have an actual glass and those fries you like. Crispy on the outside and soft on the inside."

"And the Buckhorn is spicier and brighter, like you prefer."

"Yeah. But at the Owl, you can light up that horrid cigar which you haven't been able to in two weeks."

"Horrid? Hey, those are fine cigars!" Al protested, gesturing towards his suitcase, where he knew a few cigars waited for him.

"Maybe fine to you, but you know how I hate tobacco."

Al sighed. "Let's not get into an argument again," he pleaded. "It's obvious that we want each other to be happy about our selection of eating establishment. So, here's the deal. We go to the Owl... only because I _know_ you aren't going to let me treat you. But the next time we go for chili cheeseburgers, we go to the Buckhorn."

"That sounds fine to me, Al. That's the second time you've let me win on this trip," Sam said with a self-satisfied grin on his face.

Al blinked for a moment. "It is? I don't recall letting you win anything."

"Yeah. You gave up about 'Some Like it Hot' right before we got to Albuquerque. I won, so I bought lunch, remember?"

Al frowned for a moment. "Never did understand the logic behind that. Usually, the loser is supposed to buy."

Sam smiled again. "Who said it had to be logical?"

Al laughed. "Oh, no. We're not getting into _that_ again."

Sam shook his head. "No, we're not." He noted that they were passing the Socorro exit. They'd be in San Antonio in fifteen minutes.

Al leaned forward slightly, stretching his back as he did so.

Sam noticed Al stretch. "You okay, pal?"

"Just a little stiff, I guess," Al said, brushing off that anything was wrong. "Not as young as I used to be." His jaw tightened as he attempted to hide the twinge of pain.

They had reached their exit and he turned off I-25 and onto U.S. 380. They drove east the short distance to the Owl Cafe and Sam pulled into one of the parking places along the front of the building. "I put your pain meds in the trunk. I'll get them for you."

Sam jumped up and retrieved the pills. As he walked past the passenger side he heard Al state, "I'm fine. I just need my cigars." Al retrieved them from the backseat and then opened the door. Stepping out, he was instantly grateful that Sam parked so close to the entrance as he found himself slipping to what was probably the only patch of dry ground around the bar.

Sam watched at Al fell. He rushed up to him concern in his voice, "Are you all right?"

Al looked decidedly ashamed. "Guess I hurt worse than I thought," he admitted. "Of course, riding in a car for several hours doesn't help."

"Yeah, but it was only about forty-five minutes since we saw the rainbow. You were walking fine then." He offered the older man his hand to help pull him up.

Al took the pro-offered hand and let Sam help him up. "Like I said... hurts worse than I thought."

Sam smiled. "Let's get you a root beer to wash down these meds." The two men headed into the Owl Cafe, looking forward to a shared meal at one of their two favorite restaurants in San Antonio, New Mexico.

_Tuesdayy, September 28, 1993_

10:00 a.m.

The week after the two men returned was filled with catch up activities. Al found his desk obscured under a mountain of requisitions. When Sam has walked in and found Al putting the stack into various piles, he told him that he needed to take it easy, as he hadn't fully recovered from the accident.

Al had laughed at him, saying that the committee wouldn't take kindly to poor financial management of the project. Sam had agreed and indicated that it was about time he learned about that side of things as well. That maybe with Al's assistance, he could handle the easier ones.

Al had told him it would take him longer to teach him the ropes then to just get it done. Sam acquiesced, but said that he did want to learn. He understood now that he hadn't followed proper channels to obtain the cabling and he didn't want anything like that to come between them again.

"Maybe after I've taken care of all... this," Al told him, gesturing to the pile that he'd only just started to sort by what needed to be expedited.

Sam had accepted Al's suggestion that the requisition training be handled at a later time and had turned towards tweaking the areas that had been completed, waiting anxiously until the cabling that had caused the situation to go out of control was received. A few days later, Receiving had called him that the cable had arrived. He had gone up to inspect them, surprised to find Al already there.

Al was looking at the sample cabling and looking at it carefully. "Let me see that packing slip," he ordered the receiving clerk, not noticing Sam coming into the room.

"Hey, Al. What are you doing here? I thought you'd be buried for at least another week."

"I'm going to be," Al admitted. "I just wanted to make sure that this cabling is exactly what I ordered for you. If it isn't, I'm gonna be kicking their butts!"

"I'm sure it will be fine, Al. Let me see it," the physicist replied, reaching out his hand for the sample of cable.

Al gave him a look before handing him the end of the cable and walking around the rolls, his focus on the packing slip. "It all matches the requisition," Al assured him.

Sam looked it over. "Yeah, it's got the right coating and the bundling in the middle looks perfect. These guys do great work." He looked over to the rolls the rest of the cabling was on. "Is the certification of compliance there?"

Al gestured towards the roll. "I'm sure it's attached."

Sam walked over and found an envelope taped onto the hub. "Here it is." He pulled it out and scanned it. "Everything is within spec too. Cool. We can get started running the cable today."

Al tossed the packing slip towards the receiving clerk. "Let me go change into work clothes," he told Sam as he headed for the door.

Sam obtained a large flatbed cart and started rolling the rolls onto it. "I can run these myself if you still have paperwork to do."

Al turned suddenly. "You'd really do that to me, huh?"

Sam looked at him quizzically. "What?"

Al smiled. "Keep me from having a little fun," he answered, mischievously.

"Well, Al, I don't want you to overdo it!"

Al rolled his eyes. "Sam, there is no way that you can run all that cabling on your own. Besides, I hate to say it but I can get into places you can't."

Sam looked Al up and down. "Yeah, there are a few places your scrawny ass will come in handy."

Al laughed. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"I'm glad. Okay. Go get changed. I doubt if you want that silk shirt getting caught on something." He finished putting the cable boxes on the cart. "I'll meet you down in the Control Room in half and hour."

"I'll be down in ten minutes," Al countered as he left the room and headed for the elevator.

Sam shook his head as he pushed the cart towards the door. Sometimes Al reminded him more of a little kid than anything else.

_Tuesdayy, September 28, 1993_

_1:30 p.m._

Sam and Al walked down the ramp from what would be the Imaging Chamber within a few short weeks. They'd spent the last three hours pulling cable and both were covered with dust. Sam was finishing his thought. "...and Ziggy was designed to run scenarios along multiple probabilistic lines."

"Well, based on what we just went through, Sam," Al replied, "I'd say that we need to re-look at his programming to help him broaden his probability lines." He saw the look on Sam's face. "I'm not saying reprogram him. More... help him to realize that he might not be correct."

"Ziggy is supposed to only provide the calculated probability of a particular event. And since we'll be observing, his scenario determination will be right more times than not."

"Never did understand why he needs to be able to predict anything when we'll be observing," Al muttered mostly to himself.

Sam looked to him. "To make sure we're not changing anything. You know how the Uncertainty Principle operates, Al. Simply observing may change the outcome of the event. We'd need to know that if it were happening."

The voice that they'd begun to find a familiar sound decided to place an arrogant circuit board 'foot" into its mega processor 'mouth.' "I predict with a 97.9 percent probability that I will not be wrong, Admiral."

Al stopped and looked up at the ceiling. "You know, the entity who thinks they are always right usually gets their ass kicked."

"I stated 97.9 percent, Admiral, not 100 percent." A moment later, Ziggy added, "I would think you could tell the difference."

"I know the difference! That doesn't negate what I said!" Al grumbled, wiping at the dust on his jeans.

Sam looked first to the orb and then to Al. "I don't believe you two. Squabbling over something this basic. I'm sure that Ziggy will provide reasonable scenarios."

Al looked back at Sam, a pained look on his face. "I don't know, Sam. I know this is the brilliant parallel hybrid computer you've been talking about since we started planning for this project, but this bucket of bolts couldn't figure out a reasonable scenario if its memory chips depended on it."

Suddenly Ziggy shot an electric surge through the smaller man.

Al cried out in pain. "Son of a bitch!" he exclaimed. He looked up at the orb with a glare. "What the hell was that for?"

"You shouldn't have referred to my abilities in that fashion, Admiral," the cool tones of the computer voiced.

Sam looked over to Al, shocked. "Al! Are you okay? Ziggy didn't hurt you, did he?"

Al didn't look at Sam, his infuriated gaze focused on the orb. "Sam, I swear I'm going to tear that pile of spare parts apart with my bare hands!"

"You won't have to, Al." Sam turned to the orb. "Don't you _ever_ do that to Al again, Ziggy, or I _will_ pull out your operating core."

Ziggy's voice changed to what could only be defined as miffed and whiny. "But he deserved it."

Sam started, in a reasoned tone, "I can see how you might see it that way. However…"

Al was wincing from the residuals of the shock when he heard Sam's words. "Gee, Beckett, thanks for the moral support."

Sam looked at Al, a bit surprised by the use of his last name. He completed his sentence. "However, Al is my friend and I will not tolerate his being treated like that." Sam waited for a second. "Ziggy, do you understand? I don't care if the two of you argue until the cows come home. But you will _never_ hurt him again."

The room was silent as Ziggy seemed to ponder Sam's words. "As you wish, Dr. Beckett. However, I would appreciate if the Admiral would apologize for his comments."

Al coughed a bit as he stood erect. "The hell I will."

Sam shook his head. "Actually, at this point, I'd say it's about even. He zapped you a bit unfairly; you zapped him totally unfairly. I think this whole situation just needs to be put in the past." He put his arm around Al's shoulder. "Can I buy you some coffee, pal?"

Al coughed again, looking down at himself. "Sure. Just as long as it doesn't taste like this dust I'm coughing up."

"I can't promise you that; after all, it's going to be from our cafeteria." The two men laughed and headed out the door, the future suddenly looking much better to both of them."

FINIS


End file.
